


A Matter of Slaying Dragon

by kiayea



Series: A Matter of... [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Character Death, Quest of Erebor, Sentinel/Guide, The One Ring - Freeform, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 30,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28953114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiayea/pseuds/kiayea
Summary: Bilbo, half-Took half-Baggins, never belonged anywhere. He lived his ordinary life in the Shire, completely at ease with ignoring his nosy relatives. When a troop of dwarrow came to his smial, he didn’t expect to find his sentinel in one of them. And it was decided. He would go on this adventure if only to prevent the foolhardy dwarrow to be fried by Smaug.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin/Nori (Tolkien), Fíli/Ori (Tolkien)
Series: A Matter of... [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123643
Comments: 27
Kudos: 76





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> My completed RT April 2020 project. I didn't finish it during the challenge as I was distracted by my newest addiction (to Shadowhunters).

* * *

Bilbo sneaked inside his kitchen. It was early enough to eat the breakfast, hopefully unnoticed by his guests. He was famished as hell. Last few days were spent in a haze of bonding to his unexpected sentinel. A dwarf. Who would have thought so? The hobbit frowned and his nose twitched. He smelled something and grinned. Food.

The gathered dwarrow openly smirked at him, when he entered. Bilbo flushed violently and huffed under his breath, as he grabbed a plate stacked full of pancakes. Vigorous bonding, he was a part of the last few days, clearly deeply affected Thorin’s dwarrow, as a wave of amusement and acceptance tickled his newly-rebuilt shields. Gandalf, on the other hand, seemed to believe that he was in good hands, _hmm… Thorin’s hands_ , and just vacated the premises for the duration of his bonding.

“Really. Don’t you have anything better to do than laughing at me?” The hobbit pouted and winced as he sat down at the table amongst snickering dwarrow. He was hungry. The final stage of bonding took a lot of him. Yavanna knew it was very tiring to get their bond nestled firmly in the stubborn mind of his dwarf sentinel. Resolved to ignore such an immature display Bilbo dug in.

“But uncle Bilbo.” Kíli wheedled and winked mischievously. “Shouldn’t you be still in bed resting? I’m sure you are very tired. And uncle Thorin must be missing your presence.”

Bilbo’s eyebrow twitched violently and he glared at the unrepentant trio of his bonded youngest kin. He was a proper hobbit. Such things weren’t spoken of openly in the Shire. He opened his mouth to give them a piece of his mind when a strong arm snuck around his waist. A pleasant warmth filled him with contentment as his sentinel picked him up and plopped him back into his lap. Softly sniffing at his neck to distract him, Thorin stole a pancake from his plate.

“Should I remind you how ridiculously you behaved when you first manifested your gifts?” Thorin said calmly in the face of his nephew’s teasing while he practically inhaled the liberated pancake.

“No. No need, uncle.” Kíli quickly backpedalled, paling rapidly at the not-so-subtle threat. It was a highly embarrassing couple of months, he would be grateful if everyone finally forgot.

Bilbo grinned evilly at the younger dwarf. “Now, that is a story I think I should hear.”

Kíli frantically shook his head in denial, gazing pleadingly at his uncle. His two partners-in-crime stepped back lest they would draw the king’s displeasure upon them.

Bilbo squirmed in Thorin’s lap trying to get more comfortable against his sentinel and took pity on the young dwarrow. “I would like to know, finally, why you besieged my smial.” The hobbit asked, ignoring his sentinel’s insulted huffing. “Since I don’t see Gandalf anywhere, I think Master Balin, as most level-headed of your party, should enlighten me.”

The diplomat blanched at the reminder of their rude behaviour before Thorin joined them in the hobbit’s home. Not that his king fared any better, insulting their host in a matter of minutes, albeit they seemed to work out the misunderstandings. However, that wasn’t true for the rest of them. Especially since the youngsters were of the mind to tease the hobbit mercilessly. Balin inclined his head. “Master Baggins. First, I would like to extend our apologies for any unintentional slight we made by coming to your home unannounced. We were assured by the wizard we were welcomed.”

Bilbo waved the concern away. “Apologies accepted, Master Balin. I think it was always Gandalf’s intention to spring the entire lot of you at me unawares. You should call me Bilbo.” He smiled at the others. “Everyone should. Although your youngest companions seem to be comfortable enough to use my given name without prompting.”

“That meddling old goat would get his, my heart,” Thorin murmured into his guide’s ear. “And I promise I will set my sister on those rascals as soon as possible. They are sorely in need of a refresher on their manners.” Bilbo patted sentinel’s hand soothingly and shoved another pancake in his direction.

Balin, observing shrewdly the by-play between his king and the hobbit, started carefully. “I am not sure what you know about our plight at the Blue Mountains, Mast… Bilbo, but it must be said we are not doing well there.”

The guide nodded but said nothing to Balin’s statement. Bilbo overheard his grandparents for talking about the issues the dwarrow faced in those mines. Those of more adventure-inclined Tooks went to the Blue Mountains to trade with dwarrow and bought back some worrisome news. How the population of their gifted swelled in recent years. How their king was the strongest sentinel born to them in centuries but struggled with his senses, still unbonded.

“The mines were mostly destroyed in the War of Wrath when most of Beleriand sunk into the sea. After we lost our last holdings in the East and following failure to reclaim our ancient Halls in the Misty Mountains, we wandered for years until we were finally allowed to settle in the Ered Luin. We were able to coax several mines to yield some precious metals and gems but it’s not enough to see the settlement to survive for more than another two to three years. We are in dire need to resettle. So, we re-evaluated our options.”

Bilbo pinched his nose to stave off the brewing headache. He didn’t need to use his powers to see where this was going. “You are going to try for Erebor.”

Thorin buried his nose in Bilbo’s neck. His hobbit smelled distressed. He mumbled against his guide’s soft skin. “We have no choice. Balin is overestimating the wealth left in the mines. I have more accurate information.” Bilbo only raised an eyebrow in askance and Thorin admitted. “We have no more than a year left before the mines will dry up.”

“And picking a fight with the dragon is supposed to be an answer to your plight?” Bilbo murmured back eyeing the dwarrow occupying his kitchen as if wondering about their mental health.

“It’s last ancestral hall of Durin line left intact that is more-or-less acceptable and accessible with only a little effort. The wizard coughed up a map and a key a few months ago when he enlisted us in this scheme. They are supposed to show us a secret entrance into the mountain. The dragon is a problem, of course, but still, it’s a more preferable option than trying again for Moria or Grey Mountains.” Thorin explained softly.

Bilbo slipped down from his sentinel’s lap and walked over to Balin. “I would like to see the contract, Master Balin.” Not waiting for an answer, he snatched the parchment out of the dwarf’s hands and ambled out of the kitchen. Glaring over his shoulder, he barked out the order infused with his emphatic power to make his unruly guests behave. “Everyone stays here.”

Thorin titled his head, all of his senses fixed on his fussy guide, not pausing even when Bilbo entered his study. The dwarf sentinel found out he was still a bit unbalanced by the sudden acquisition of his guide. Even last few days, they spent in seclusion bonding and learning each other, didn’t help him as much as he hoped. It was probably a consequence of finding his guide so late in his life.

Suddenly, Thorin cringed and turned to his advisor. “Balin, be prepared to make extensive revisions of the contract. My guide is quite displeased with the wording and various clauses.” The sentinel winced at the cursing, he could hear from Bilbo’s study, the quill viciously scratching across large sections of parchment. The king shook his head in resignation as a wave of displeasure was sent to him deliberately from his guide.

“At least we know he is not one of those dull Shirelings,” Fíli remarked dryly, as he relaxed beside Ori. Kíli just laughed at the hobbit’s colourful vocabulary.

“I have to remember this. I’m not sure this is anatomically possible.” Fíli murmured to his brother. “Ouch. Poor uncle.”

The aforementioned dwarf just groaned and thumped his head against the table. Just what he needed. His bratty nephews and his opinionated guide joining to torment him when not even present in the same room. Thorin lifted his head when heard grumbling Bilbo leaving the study.

“Here he comes. Beware of the angry hobbit.” Thorin warned his company before his guide descended on them.

Incensed Bilbo swept back inside the kitchen and slapped the contract on the table. “I won’t sign this atrocious piece of crap. I don’t know, what you were thinking when you wrote this… this… Argh.” The guide took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “I took the liberty to write a new contract to replace that abomination. Read it and sign it.” He passed the parchment to Thorin, as he sat down. “And I don’t want to hear any objections. I think you’ll find out I was pretty reasonable with all the clauses, considering that we are about to go and fight a dragon.”

Thorin glanced over the parchment quickly. Bilbo was right. There wasn’t anything he fundamentally disagreed with. Not wanting to aggravate his guide more, he asked. “Do you have a quill?”

The sentinel signed the contract without delay and passed it to Balin. The advisor scanned the parchment and raised an eyebrow. “This is well-written, Bilbo. I commend your skills.”

The hobbit blushed hotly at the praise. “Thank you. I have a few more questions concerning our schedule and supplies. I would be pleased if Thorin and you could follow me back to my study to go over those issues.”

“Of course, Bilbo.” Thorin agreed immediately and was about to get up when a knock interrupted further discussion.


	2. Part 2

A heaviness settled upon the dwarrow. It was a deliberate projection of a powerful and very irritated sentinel’s aura. Thorin sprung up from his seat, almost dislodging his guide, looking for his sword. A strong sentinel, perhaps even the Alpha of this region, was standing just outside of his guide’s little round door. A threat to his new bond.

Bilbo put his hand on Thorin’s arm and exhaled slowly, sending calm feelings in his sentinel’s direction. “It’s just my grandfather. Sit down, Thorin.”

“But… But… But… Halflings are peaceful. They have no need for such strong sentinel.” Thorin stammered out in surprise as he collapsed back on the bench.

“Don’t be insulting, Thorin. We are not half of anything.” Bilbo sent him a withering glare and went to open the door. His poor sentinel really didn’t have a clue what the hobbits were capable of. And maybe it was for the better. Bilbo winced as he neared his door. The impatience his grandfather was sending out was clearly meant for him. He steeled himself. There was nothing to be afraid of. He opened the door and backpedalled at the scowling faces waiting for him. Maybe.

“Finally, Bilbo,” Gerontius said and stepped inside. The old thain still cut an imposing figure, although his strength was starting to wane. With his wife and guide Adamatha on his arm and followed by his heir Isumbras, he zeroed eerily on the unfamiliar smells and sounds filling up his favourite grandson’s smial. “Where is he?” The thain asked sharply, his nose scrunching in displeasure.

Bilbo sighed. He really didn’t need more uninvited guests invading his home. “Good morning, grandfather. Grandmother. Uncle Isumbras.”

Adamantha patted Bilbo’s cheek fondly, ignoring her husband and son waiting at them impatiently at the entrance to the kitchen. “Good morning, my dear.”

Bilbo blushed and tried to wave of grandmother’s embarrassing actions. “Grandma. Not now.”

“Yes, now. Be a good lad and accompany me to your fine sentinel.”

Resigned Bilbo offered his arm to his grandmother. “Of course, grandma.”

Together they entered the kitchen, shortly after two hobbit sentinels. The room resembled more of a silent battlefield with Gerontius and his son glaring fiercely at the dwarrow from one side of table and dwarrow clustered on the other side, than a place dedicated to cooking and enjoying the food.

“A dwarf, Bilbo?” Gerontius asked, not taking his eyes from the trespassing sentinels, specifically the one reeking of his grandson’s power.

“Now. Now, my dear. No hasty conclusions.” Adamantha patted her husband’s shoulder. She looked over the dwarrow sharply, measuring their worth and dismissing most of them with one glance, stopping at the fairly impressive sentinel and smirked. “He is not one to practise his manners for manner’s sake, is he? Well… At least, he is pretty.”

“Grandmother.” Bilbo groaned and slunk off to his sentinel to seek protection against his embarrassing family. No such luck. The dwarrow just gaped unbecomingly at the outspoken old guide.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Bilbo? I hope these dwarrow’s atrocious manners didn’t rub on you, yet”

Bilbo flushed at Adamantha’s fairly direct rebuke and hastily made introductions.

“Now, dear Bilbo. I would like to know how you came to be hosting a group of dwarrow in your smial?” Gerontius demanded after he decided everyone suffered enough through a ridiculous amount of bowing and exchanging names. He was old and was allowed to be as petty as he wanted. His wife just smiled at him fondly, easily seeing right through him. She had always had that annoying ability.

“That bloody wizard. It’s all his fault.” Bilbo replied sulkily from his sentinel’s side.

“Gandalf? I should have known it. He was always dragging your mother on adventures.” Gerontius muttered. “And speaking of him, where is that old reprobate?”

“He vanished three days ago, muttering he’ll be back, after uncle and Bilbo finish bonding.” Kíli volunteered the information.

“And your uncle would be?” Gerontius asked sharply, the question infused heavily with his power. Young dwarf shrunk back, half-hiding behind his brother.

“Thorin Oakenshield.” The dwarf king easily shrugged the old sentinel’s influence. He stood up proudly and bowed. “At your service.”

Gerontius pierced him with his gaze. “We’ll see, Master Oakenshield. We’ll see.” He waved negligently towards the entrance. “Bilbo, be a dear, there is a certain grey pest at your doors. Let him in. I would like to tell him exactly what I think about his high-handed behaviour.”

Bilbo jumped up and ran to the entrance. Anything to escape the suffocating atmosphere inside his kitchen. He opened the door and scowled at the grey wizard. He was half-tempted to slam the door in his face, his mother’s old friend or not.

“Good morning, Bilbo.” Gandalf ducked inside. “Finished the honeymoon, I see.”

Bilbo blushed. At this rate, he was going to end up permanently red in the face. Mutely he just showed the annoying wizard the way to the kitchen where the others were waiting.

“Good morning, everyone.” The wizard greeted blithely others, not caring that three more hobbits in attendance were doing a fairly good impression of reenacting the war of wrath with the dwarrow in their line of sight.

“Good morning, Gandalf.” Gerontius turned his glare at the aforementioned wizard. “I hope you didn’t expect to abscond with my favourite grandson without leaving a word.”

The wizard dithered and plopped on the comfortable chair in the middle of no man’s land between hobbits and dwarrow. “Nope, my dear Gerontius. I was going to send you a word as soon as we reached our destination.”

“And when exactly would that be?” Adamantha asked imperiously, not believing a word form the mouth of that old meddler. She remembered how often he hightailed from the Shire with her daughter in tow, dragging her up and down the entire Eriador.

“Imladris,” Gandalf replied shortly with a half-truth, hoping Adamantha wouldn’t call him on it. The old guide was sharp enough, and she only grew stronger since the last time he saw her. He shouldn’t have worried. Just a mention of elven kingdom caused dwarrow to twitch in dislike and glare at him, giving out his deception quite neatly.

“Care to amend your statement?” Gerontius asked. He didn’t need his enhanced senses to know the wizard wasn’t telling the entire truth. The expression on his grandson’s face was telling.

“Not particularly.” Gandalf pouted. He was a Maiar, a hand of Valar west of the Blessed realm. Why, for once, couldn’t anyone take him seriously?

“Maybe, because you are an incorrigible meddler and all-around a bad influence on the impressionable youths,” Adamantha answered the wizard’s silent lament and promptly ignored him in favour of the more interesting occupants of Bilbo’s kitchen.

The dwarrow quickly conversed in Khuzdul and selected Balin to be their spokesman. “As we mentioned to Master Baggins earlier, we are on the quest for reclaiming our home in the East.”

“Don’t you mean, the lost kingdom of Erebor? You are dragging my grandson to face a fire-breathing dragon?” Gerontius angrily shouted and his aura covered the entire room. “He is not going.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes at his grandfather’s posturing. “He is of age and he can do what he wants, grandfather.”

Gerontius glared at the young hobbit in betrayal. “Bilbo, you can’t be serious? You are aware you were going to be the next heir of thainship as soon as you bonded. I was going to resign my position in your favour soon.”

“And I told you, again and again, I wasn’t suited to it, grandpa. Besides uncle Isumbras is more than an adequate successor.” Bilbo left his bonded side, kneeled beside his grandfather, taking his shaking hands and squeezing them gently. “I’ve always known my destiny wasn’t to remain in the Shire. I was meant for other things.” Bilbo eyed his frowning sentinel.

“Gerontius. It was never your choice to make.” Adamantha gently reminded her spouse. “He was always going to make his own way in the world, no matter what we wanted for him. In that, he is too much like his mother and not enough like his father. He’ll be devastated if you forbid him to follow his sentinel. It’s not our way. Remember please, once bonded, bonded forever.”

Gerontius sighed heavily. He didn’t want to lose the last link to his daughter in such a manner. His beautiful Belladonna was a strong sentinel. Many in the Shire expected her to succeed him, but she had never bonded. Maybe that was the main reason she eagerly followed Gandalf out of Shire. Adamantha had long suspected her guide was not one of their gifted. Until one day she lost all of her wandering lust and her sentinel gifts retreated deeply in her soul. They knew then, her guide was dead and she wouldn’t be able to stand in his place. Fortunately, his son Isumbras had awakened shortly after to take his sister’s place in succession.

The old sentinel pouted childishly. “Fine.”


	3. Part 3

“Let’s see it, Bilbo,” Adamantha asked suddenly, cutting through the rising tension with aplomb born of long years as the thain’s wife and guide. “Show me your token. I am really curious what your powers finally decided to manifest as.”

The dwarrow stared at the old hobbit guide in confusion. What she was talking about? What token?

They were used to all kinds of the spirit companions from the gentle doves to the fierce wolves and they were curious what Bilbo’s was going to be. Especially Thorin. He was really put out when the animal didn’t appear during their bonding. Even his lion was sulking that his guide’s spirit animal did not deign to appear to complete the bonding. He sensed a swell of power during their bonding but no spirit appeared in their vicinity.

Bilbo was flustered under all of the attention. Reluctantly, he reached into his pocket and withdrew something. He opened his palm and there it was. An acorn fairly humming with power. The dwarrow looked shocked at the tiny acorn. What was that?

“Oh, Bilbo.” Adamantha exhaled in surprise. “A strong token.” She glanced at the dwarf sentinel hovering protectively over her grandson. “Oakenshield, indeed.”

Bilbo blushed.

“Master Oakenshield, you have to understand, the hobbit’s gifted are quite different from other races,” Adamantha explained. “Since our awakening in distant times, our ancestors were tightly bound to nature. The bond was so profound that in some cases it manifested physically in the living world, often taking a shape of a seed. Those of our distant ancestors, who were blessed by Yavanna, were granted the tokens and became our first sentinels and guides.” Glancing briefly at the Ori, who was frantically trying to write down all of the information, she continued. “Most of these ancient gifted chose a plot of land to plant their seeds and then the land came under their protection. The more powerful pair, the more powerful token they planted and the more responsibility they assumed.”

“You are going to plant the acorn in the East.” Gerountis sighed in resignation.

Younger hobbit only nodded. “Yes, grandfather. My place is beside my sentinel. He is going to the east. To try to win back the home for his dwarrow. As is his duty.”

“So what you are saying is that your spirit companion manifests as a plant.” Observing the by-play between hobbits, Balin was the first one to connect the dots.

“What happens when gifted pair perish?” Ori peeped out. “I mean with tokens and plants.”

Adamantha frowned. “That is not something we want to spread out.” The young scholar nodded and put his writing utensils away. „Upon the death of their bonded the tokens release their power back into the land and strengthen our borders. The Thain, historically most powerful sentinel of Shire, using his token can and will shore up defences and close our borders against any threat.”

“Then the Shire is the greatest well of psionic energy in all Arda. That’s why all of our sentinels and guides are so at ease in these lands.” Balin realized. He curiously glanced at his king’s guide. “What does it mean for a gifted hobbit to leave the Shire?”

Bilbo fidgeted uncomfortably. “We are not sure. The last one to leave our borders was my mother and it was long before she married my father. We believe her guide was not one of our people. I think that was a reason, she let herself be pulled out of the Shire so easily and so often.” Gerontius glared at the wizard sitting unobtrusively in one of the shadowy corners of the room. He didn’t fool anyone when he moved there to watch the proceedings. It galled Gerontius, that the things were going according to the old meddler’s plan, as usual.

“She would be still looking for him if he didn’t die. It was some years ago and she returned heartbroken to the Shire. We couldn’t get her to admit one way or another if she found her guide or not. But after her gifts retreated it was obvious she lost him.” Adamantha added sadly.

“Bungo was a good hobbit. No sentinel or guide in his family, as far as anyone could remember, but… He loved my Belladonna and managed to bring her smile back. He made her happy. So, I agreed to their courtship and eventual marriage.” Gerontius smiled at Bilbo. “Their son was a surprise.”

“In what way?” Thorin asked. The need to know his guide was overwhelming. Even though their bond settled and he had an insight into his guide’s mind no dwarf sentinel ever admitted to, there were some corners of his mind, Bilbo shielded fiercely.

“When he was born, Belladonna’s gifts resurfaced again. Her protective instincts were on the alert and they latched on her son, forming a protective shield around his mind. He is a very rare born guide.” The thain divulged to the dwarrow.

“We feared he wouldn’t survive, but our Bilbo was always quite stubborn,” Adamantha revealed, fondly smiling at her grandson.

“Grandma. Stop, for Yavanna sake.” Embarrassed young guide pleaded. The dwarrow, he was starting to think as his, snickered at his discomfort, except for his sentinel, who was amused but had enough sense not to show it.

“Let’s see the contract,” Gerontius asked. Bilbo passed the parchment to his grandfather and settled back beside his sentinel.

“Just be glad, I rewrote it, before he could get hands on it,” Bilbo murmured quietly, hoping his grandfather and uncle were too engrossed in it to ignore him.

Thorin blanched. Suddenly, he was glad his guide took it upon himself to rewrite the contract. If Bilbo was that offended by the wording, he didn’t want to see how the thain would have reacted.

“Excellent work, Bilbo.” Gerontius praised, recognizing his grandson’s hand in the document’s wording. Some of the clauses were clearly of dwarrow origin, but it was more-or-less all Bilbo’s work. “Although, I have a few points I would like you to clarify.” The old sentinel carefully rolled the parchment and returned it to the dwarf-diplomat. “For example. Bilbo… From the contract you wrote, I am guessing, you won’t be returning permanently to the Shire.”

“No, grandfather. I won’t.” Bilbo affirmed, squeezing his sentinel’s hand.

“Hmm. In that case, you need to leave clear instructions on what to do about your various properties.”

Bilbo groaned. “Sackville-Bagginses.”

“Sackville-Bagginses.” Gerontius agreed. “I’m surprised they aren’t here already with their demands.”

“Please, grandfather. Just don’t mention them. Otherwise, I’m sure I’ll get uninvited and most certainly undesired visit from my most odious relatives.” Bilbo pleaded. He wasn’t in the mood to entertain Lobelia, her husband and her spawn. The situation was complicated enough without adding her nonsense in the mix.

“Drogo is almost of age. He is young but shrewd. He will stand in my place as the Head of the Baggins clan.” Bilbo decided after deliberation. “He is already betrothed and I know cousin Primula. She is a sensible young woman. For a Brandybuck, I mean. With your permission, grandfather, I will give them the Bag End and anything it contains except for a few things I value.” Bilbo inhaled and addressed his grandmother. “I will make a list of things I want to remain in your and grandfather’s custody until such a time I’ll send for them.”

“As you wish.” Adamantha agreed immediately, knowing Bilbo’s mind was made up.

“Excellent. I expect you to deliver the appropriate documents before you leave the Shire. And that brings us to the second question I have.” The thain focused on Bilbo’s sentinel. “When exactly are you planning to leave?”

“As soon as possible,” Thorin replied shortly after a brief exchange in Khuzdul with Balin. “As we explained to Bilbo earlier, we don’t have time to spare.”

“I thought so.” The old sentinel sighed resignedly. “I have to insist you stop at the Great Smials on your way out of the Shire. I have some things for Bilbo. Also, I have a few suggestions on how to mitigate the situation in the Blue Mountains.”

Thorin cocked his head curiously. Bilbo’s grandfather was serious. His senses didn’t detect any sign of deception, although the other sentinel was strong enough to fool him. What was his angle? What he would get by helping his dwarrow in the Blue Mountains, when even other dwarrow lords, his cousin included, denied their help that was much needed.

The dwarf hissed and glared at his guide. The impertinent hobbit pinched him and sent a wave of displeasure at his dark thoughts through their bond. And suddenly Thorin was over the dwarrow lords bullshit and decided to trust his guide’s kin. “Agreed.”


	4. Part 4

The day his adventure started was beautiful. The sun was shining brightly, not one cloud on the horizon. Bilbo puffed out a perfect smoke ring from his pipe thoughtfully. His dwarrow were stocking up on some last-minute stuff. The ponies were weighted down by food and medicine. Bilbo was certain Thorin’s nephews were trolling him with the number of preparations they were doing. Fortunately, he was a guide, so he was able to discern their deception very quickly. Although, he didn’t have to bother. Ori’s exasperated expression was a dead giveaway the brothers were trying to prank him.

Bilbo sighed and put the pipe away. He was as prepared as he ever would. He was glad his mother insisted, when he was a tween, to give him a true Took education, despite his father’s protests and the fact, he was only half-Took. He was fitted with travelling clothes, got lessons in survival in the wilderness and first aid. He was schooled in the traditional martial arts. Not that anyone would believe that the peaceful Shirelings had something akin to martial arts. Or sentinels.

“Good afternoon, Drogo.” Bilbo welcomed his favourite cousin.

“Good afternoon.” The younger hobbit greeted the guide.

“Ah. I see.” Bilbo realized. Drogo was fairly singing with the power of a newly awakened sentinel. “That changes a few things.”

“Yes. Yavanna called me about the same time you bonded with your dwarf. Evidently, she saw a need for a Baggins to stand in defence of the heart of Shire.”

“And Primula?”

“My guide, of course. We are to be married as soon as possible.” Glancing at his cousin, he admitted. “We are bonded platonically. It was difficult, but her father insisted. You know, I’m a few months away from coming of age, as she is.”

Bilbo clapped his shoulder consolingly. “I’m sure you’ll do admirably in my stead. You were chosen for a reason.”

Drogo sighed. “You will stand as the strongest guide in the east. Are you certain this is the way you want to go?”

“That is not certain. I mean… That I’ll be the strongest.” Bilbo murmured. “We can’t predict what we will find there. There are humans and elves there, all living under a shadow of dragon threat. I wouldn’t be surprised if the constant danger caused them to awaken in great numbers. Anyone, be it elf or human, could be stronger than me.”

“It will be you,” Drogo stated matter-of-factly. “Otherwise, there wouldn’t be a need for another Baggins gifted in the Shire. You won’t return.”

Bilbo looked around quickly and hushed his younger cousin. “Shh. Not so loud. Thorin doesn’t know. And I’m not going to tell him what it means exactly for me that you awakened. It would put immense pressure on him. I don’t want that. He needs to concentrate on the journey and think out the plan on how to deal with the dragon.”

Drogo frowned. “And if you don’t succeed, then what? Will you return to the Shire? Or will you go back with your dwarf to the Blue Mountains?”

Bilbo said calmly. “Well, I don’t think I’m returning to the Shire either way. I mean in the case we fail, all of us will be dead, so your concern is appreciated, but moot.”

“Don’t be morbid, Bilbo. Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”

“If you think so.”

“Bilbo, ah. There you are.” Kíli burst in the conversation. “Uncle wants you to come. We are leaving in a few minutes.” Young dwarf smacked his fist on his chest and inclined his head to the other hobbit. “Kíli, at your service, sentinel.”

Drogo returned the gesture after a brief glance at his cousin. “Yavanna’s blessings, sentinel Kíli. Drogo Baggins, at your service. ”

“Tell Thorin, I’ll come. I have last few things to discuss with my cousin.” Bilbo shooed Kíli away. Kíli grinned and ran towards their group waiting impatiently beside their ponies.

Bilbo stood up from his lawn and took out a key from his pocket. With one last mournful look at his home, he dropped the key into Drogo’s hands. “I pass on the responsibility for protecting the Hobbiton and the West Farthing to you. Do you accept, sentinel?”

The air grew heavy with anticipation, as Bilbo’s vast power retreated back into his acorn to rest until it was needed again. Drogo put the key in his pocket, withdrew his token and bowed his head. “I accept the responsibility you pass me, guide. I vow to protect and shelter those in need, guard our people and take care of our lands.”

Drogo dropped a glowing blue seed from his hand. A wave of power swelled and the air tinted blue. The seed sprouted and grew, as the sentinel’s power spread out, encompassing the vast lands of the west part of Shire. The power sank in the ground and gently touched the hobbits living under its protection, letting them know about the change. Drogo exhaled as the burden of leadership settled on him. He glared briefly at his cousin. “That wasn’t what I expected when I agreed to become the Baggins of the Bag End.”

“It never is, Drogo.” Bilbo touched the newly-grown shrub gently and smiled. “White heather. Thank you, Drogo.” The guide bowed. “Yavanna’s blessings.”

“Yavanna’s blessings, Bilbo. And good luck.” The sentinel answered.

The hobbit guide waved and ran out of his, well Drogo’s now, home to his waiting dwarrow, shouting the entire way. “I’m going on an adventure.”

* * *

The ponies were one of Sauron’s more foul creations, Bilbo decided. His ass ached from sitting in the saddle for hours. Fortunately, the Great Smials were close. He could see the main entrance. Why his grandfather insisted they stopped in Thooksborough, he didn’t know, but it was Thain’s will, so he obeyed.

“Bilbo! Bilbo is coming!” A troupe of children run in front of them, announcing their arrival to the greater part of Tooksborough.

The hobbit guide winced at the sudden onslaught of emotions emanating from the Great Smials, the seat of the thain. He glared at his sentinel, who dismounted his pony gracefully. “A little help would be appreciated, Thorin.”

“As you wish.” The dwarf grinned unexpectedly and teased. “Kíli, Fíli, help my guide, please.”

With mischievous smirks, Thorin’s nephews jumped down from their mounts and stalked towards the hobbit. “Thorin! Don’t you dare!” Bilbo warned his sentinel, eyeing nervously younger dwarrow.

Smothering laughter at his guide’s expression, Thorin helped him down. “Finally, a solid ground.” Bilbo staggered. “Greetings and Blessings from our Great Mother.”

“Yavanna’s blessings to you and your companions.” The thain greeted his guests as his wife ushered all of them inside. “You came just in time for dinner.”

“We don’t want to impose on you.” Bilbo started.

“Nonsense, Bilbo. You are always welcomed in our smial.” Adamantha interrupted him and winked at the dwarrow. “As are your guests.”

“But at first we have some business to attend, Adamantha.” Gerontius took mercy on his grandson and his dwarf. “Bilbo, Master Oakenshield, follow me.”

“Don’t dawdle, Gerontius,” Adamantha called after them.

“Yes, my dear.” the old hobbit replied and entered his study. He motioned the pair to sit down. “I hope you have the documents ready.”

Bilbo nodded and handed a few scrolls to his grandfather. “As we agreed earlier. Drogo will get the Bag End and the position of the head of Baggins clan. He already agreed. And as a newly awakened sentinel, he took over land’s protection. The handover went smoothly.”

“Very well. Now, let’s see what you came up with.” The thain opened the scrolls and started to look them over. “Excellent work.” He muttered as he finished. He grabbed a quill and signed it as the witness.

“Everything is in order, then. I’m free to go?” Bilbo asked, tightening his hold on Thorin’s hand.

“Yes, it seems so. Although, I have something for you.” Gerontius said. He opened a chest, standing in the corner, and rummaged through its contents, searching for one particular thing. “Aha. Here it is.” He called out and pulled out a sword. He deposited it in Bilbo’s hands. “It was your mother’s.”

“Mother’s… sword?” Bilbo repeated incredulously, while he was turning the weapon in his hands. “Where did she find it?”

“She returned with it from her last adventure and entrusted it in my care. She wanted me to give it to you when the time comes.” Gerontius explained, lost in the memories of his favourite daughter. “She told me it was an elven-wrought weapon. It is light and easily wielded. It will stay sharp for months and it should be glowing blue in the presence of goblins and orcs.” Gerontius narrowed his eyes at his grandson thoughtfully. “Something I think you’ll need on your little adventure, you are so intent on going.”

Bilbo stopped admiring the sword and groaned. “Not again, grandfather. I’m not going to change my mind just to please you. For the last time. I’m going with my sentinel and end of discussion.”

“If you are sure.”

“Grandfather.” Bilbo cried out, with the contrary old hobbit.

“Fine. Fine. Bilbo.” The old sentinel hastily hushed his grandson. “It’s just… It’s hard for me to accept you’ll be going so far away from the Shire. It’s an uncomfortable thought.”

Bilbo suddenly had enough. He put the sword aside, caught his sentinel’s hands and recited an ancient pledge. “We are called by Yavanna’s grace to protect each other. So, let this be my pledge to you, Thorin. For where you go, I will follow. I shall take your people under my protection as mine. I will live where you will live and die when you die. For my heart and my soul is forever entwined with yours.”

Thorin breathed out, ignoring the heaviness lingering in the air. He kneeled in front of his hobbit and kissed his palms, returning the words of devotion. “Mahal’s hammer wrought us strong and Eru breathed life in us. By his will, we are called to protect our people and our guides. So, let’s be this my pledge to you, Bilbo. I vow to hold you close and cherish you forever. I will stand beside you, protect you and love you for the rest of our lives and beyond. So, let Mahal stand a witness to my oath.”

“Oh, Bilbo.” the old hobbit muttered sadly, a tear falling down his cheek, as the bond between the guide and the sentinel deepened with marriage vows they spoke.

Female happy laughter and the sound of a male’s approval floated in the air, sealing their fate.


	5. Part 5

Bilbo scrunched his nose. Something was prickling at the edge of his awareness. He wondered why Thorin wasn’t getting some kind of warning from his senses. The hobbit frowned at the forest. Something was hiding in there. They left Bree more than a month ago and he was getting tired of the unruly dwarrow. Especially those of the Durin line, his sentinel mostly, were uncomfortably crowding him. He wasn’t used to it. Hopefully, Thorin would soon direct them to leave him alone.

The hobbit was tired, hungry and on his last nerve. He glared balefully at the dwarrow sentinels, daring them to approach him. He was in the foul mood since last night. His sentinel had insisted on watching over the camp and as a consequence, Bilbo wasn’t able to sleep. Thorin’s alertness bled all over him and didn’t allow him to rest.

Bilbo came up to Gandalf and frowned at him. “Are you still insisting on the visit to Imladris?”

The grey wizard nodded. “Lord Elrond will have knowledge of the moon runes embedded in Thorin’s map. It’s also necessary to restock the supplies for the trek across Misty Mountains.”

“Did you warn Thorin? I mean about Lord Elrond.”

Gandalf pursed his lips and admitted. “I didn’t think to do so. Do you think it will be a problem?”

Bilbo thought about it. “Perhaps. It will depend on how much of my mother’s impressions of the elf lord were spot on.”

“Your mother was very perceptive. Uncommonly so. I thought her a guide and she never revealed she was a sentinel.”

“You know why.”

“I know now.” Gandalf sighed. “How was I to know she was supposed to be thain’s successor.”

“You weren’t. And that’s the point.” Bilbo said and spurred his pony, leaving stunned Gandalf behind pondering what else he didn’t know about the Shirelings. They might be a secretive race but he had hoped he earned some measure of trust with the years he spent coming in and out the Shire, endearing himself to the curly-haired hobbits.

“We are going to stop here for tonight.” Thorin decided, sensing his guide’s foul mood. The last month on the journey wasn’t conducive to privacy needed for renewing the bonding. It was getting more and more fragile with each passing day. And it showed clearly in Bilbo’s poor disposition as more days passed since their last communion. It was sorely needed, as Thorin felt a strain on his senses. He had to limit his range and most of the time he was focused on his guide to the point of suffocating him with his attention.

Irritated Bilbo climbed down from his pony, stomping away from the loud dwarrow. He needed peace and quiet to learn what was bothering him so about that forest. The meditation was a way to go. He settled away from the noise of camp-building dwarrow, near enough to call for help, if needed and closed his eyes. He touched lightly all dwarrow under his protection, focusing on his sentinel and inviting him to join him as soon as possible.

Thorin, finally noticing his guide was quite far away, decided to follow after him. “Dwalin, Nori. Set the camp up. Boys, the ponies. Balin, corral them away from my guide.” The dwarf sentinel snapped out the orders impatiently before he stomped out, completely ignoring Gandalf’s huffing.

Thorin settled down beside his guide. Taking gently Bilbo’s hands into his, he summoned his spirit companion. The lion showed up in a flash of the blue jungle, stalking towards the dwarf and his hobbit guide. Thorin sighed and relaxed in the embrace of his guide’s shield, letting go of his worries for a moment.

“You shouldn’t interact with my acorn directly before it is planted,” Bilbo murmured with his eyes still closed, when he felt Thorin squeeze his hands holding the token. “I could burn you out.”

“When we were in Tooksborough, your grandmother took me aside to explain. I was lectured about the importance of your token. Thoroughly.” Thorin whispered, not wanting to ruin the peaceful mood his guide was emanating. His strained senses levelled after weeks of continuous use, leaving him reeling in the sudden freedom of the burden he laboured under.

Bilbo freed one of his hands from Thorin’s grasp and cradled sentinel’s cheek. Catching the sentinel’s eyes in his gaze, he surrounded the dwarf’s mind with his shield. The blue rays of power crackled around them, slowly spreading towards the camp. One by one the sentinels and the lone guide amongst them relaxed and fell into a meditative state.

Bilbo relaxed and let his mind expand, finally finding relief after weeks of constant pressure. Since their marriage pledge in front of half of his relatives, they couldn’t find the time for themselves to reaffirm their bond. Finally, Bilbo sighed and fell into a kiss with his sentinel. Their bond was pulsing with desperate need.

Thorin groaned and broke their kiss, resting his forehead against Bilbo’s riotous curls. “I sincerely regret that we don’t have more privacy.” The hobbit smirked and squirmed in his lap, teasingly grinding his ass against Thorin’s noticeable erection. “Bilbo. This is really not a place nor time.” Thorin reluctantly pleaded, his hands trying to hold still the hobbit tease in his lap. It was a wretched time to be reasonable, but they were too close to the camp, to risk a tryst.

A distressed scream put a stop to their amorous mood. It acted like cold water, cooling their arousal abruptly. Thorin stood up, dislodging Bilbo from his lap. He grasped his weapons, tuning up his senses and ran in the direction of the shouting. Bilbo, not wanting to be left behind, grabbed his things and followed after his sentinel.

“Trolls.” Thorin hissed and pulled Bilbo down unceremoniously on the ground behind the bushes. Two pairs of enormous legs traipsed by them, with captured dwarrow in their grasp. Bilbo elbowed the dwarf sharply and rolled away. Carefully, they peeked through the foliage, taking in the scene in front of them.

“Look, Bert. I caught you some dwarves.” The troll said, proudly displaying a cage with a with Kíli, Fíli and Ori. Poor youngsters were too slow to react after they were ambushed while looking after ponies. They were caught rather quickly.

“Oh, just what I needed for the stew.” The cook was pleased. Finally, some variety. Not only mutton – day in, day out. He pawned at the cage. “Give it here.”

“It’s nothing.” Other troll sniffed disdainfully and pulled the rope with tied dwarrow closer to the fire. “Look at this Bert. I have caught twice as many as Bill caught.”

“We can bake a few of them. I didn’t have a deep-fried dwarf in so long.” The cook said dreamily. “Put them there.” Bert pointed to the flat stone serving as a table. He tapped his lip in thought. “What were the spices, my mother swore were the best for baked dwarves?”

Thorin snarled in indignation. His dwarrow wasn’t for eating. He palmed his sword, taking the situation in, trying to find out a weak point to exploit. He looked at his guide, noticing he was uncommonly quiet.

“What are you planing?” Thorin asked urgently. He didn’t like it. His guide had that dangerous glint in his eyes that he was starting to fear. It showed directly before he did something reckless. Like marrying him in front of his grandfather, just to shut him up. Or when he agreed to go the quest. Or when he was teasing Gandalf, not afraid of the consequences of the pissed off Maiar.

“Just a second.” Bilbo hushed the sentinel and grabbed the token from its hidden pocket.

“No, Bilbo. I forbid you. Don’t you dare!” The contrary hobbit was obviously ignoring his orders. He closed his eyes, the token clenched fist. It was starting to glow.

Thorin couldn’t allow Bilbo to use it. It was too dangerous. Adamantha said so. The sentinel felt a rage clouding his reason. The sight of his nephews in grave danger and his hobbit on the precipice of doing something ill-advised caused his feral protective instincts to rise to the surface. He drew his sword and with a yell he came out of the bushes.

Bilbo winced at the unleashed fury emanating from his sentinel as he attacked the trolls. He hesitantly put his acorn back into the secret pocket and latched on the sentinel’s wild feelings, channelling them through his empathy back at the trolls, taking care not to hit Thorin.

The sentinel was fury in motion. Wielding his sword and dagger in deadly precision he went after the weak spots – heals and tendons. He dispatched the trolls before they knew him for threat. His guide helped by hitting them with a dose of unfiltered intense feelings, immobilising them.

“Let the dawn take you.” Gandalf cried out and broke a stone with his staff. The rising sun flooded the entire area. The trolls groaned in pain, turning slowly to the stone.

“You are late, Gandalf,” Thorin called out, breathing heavily, the rage finally abating.

“A wizard is never late, nor early. He arrives precisely the moment he means to.” Gandalf said imperiously and leaned against his staff.

Bilbo ran up to his sentinel and screeched. “Trolls, Thorin? Really? What’s next? Wargs? Orcs? A Balrog? Isn’t a looming visit to the dragon enough? You are lucky I’m half-Took, otherwise, I would have gladly left your ass here and return to the Shire the shortest way possible.”

“You are also half-Baggins,” Gandalf exclaimed cheerfully, ignoring the shell-shocked dwarf king. “And not one of them would go back on their word.”

The trembling guide just glared at the infuriating wizard. Why the old meddler had to always have the last word, he didn’t know. Huffing, he grabbed Thorin’s braids and pulled him down, taking in his scent. “You foolish dwarf. What were you thinking, charging recklessly at the trolls without any sort of plan? Do you want to drive me to the early grave, or what?”

The sentinel shook off his stupor, embraced his shaking guide and tried to calm him. “Shh, Bilbo. It’s over. You did well.”

Bilbo whimpered and tightened his grip on Thorin’s braids, soaking the calm his sentinel was sending him. He pulled back his empathy and rebuilt his walls. Thorin soothingly sheltered his guide under his mental shields. Little by little the hobbit gathered his strength and relaxed against his sentinel. “Thank you, Thorin. I needed it.”

Chilling howls reverberated from the forest, freezing the blood in their veins, as the new threat appeared out of bushes, closing quickly on the Company.


	6. Part 6

“This day won’t end, or what?” Bilbo muttered, turning his eyes heavenwards. He pushed away from his dwarf, gripped his sword and turned in the direction he sensed a quickly approaching cloud of maliciousness and bloodlust. His sentinel huffed, grabbed him around his waist and put him on a pony.

“We are not going to fight them, Bilbo. Orcs are nothing like the trolls, we’ve just dealt with.” Thorin admonished his guide and mounted another pony. He turned to Gandalf and inclined his head. “I can hear horses in that direction.”

The wizard tried to look innocent. He didn’t fool anyone. The long weeks spent in his company inured them to his antics.

“Elves.” Dwalin sniffed and spat, gripping his axes tightly.

“Gandalf had to call them earlier, while we were meditating.” Bilbo was the first one to grasp it and huffed. The dwarrow glared at the grey menace in their midst. Thorin’s guide was very sharp and intuitive and he was right more often than not.

Thorin spurred his pony, not particularly happy to be in the debt to those pointy-eared leaf-eaters. But if it saved his guide and his dwarrow, he would go to them. Gladly. He knew he would have reacted differently to the Gandalf’s high-handedness if he didn’t find his guide in the Shire. “Not now, Bilbo. We can yell at him in Imladris when he is so intent to get us there. Dwalin, Balin, boys. We are going to the east. Follow me.”

“I’m not sure, we should encourage Gandalf. He’ll only get worse if we give him any ground.” Bilbo muttered as he galloped by Thorin.

“Then we will set the boundaries, as soon as we are safe. And get the wizard to follow them.”

“I’m curious, how you want to accomplish it,” Bilbo asked. “We, hobbits, tried for years to reign in his excessive behaviour. My mother came the closest to success. Although, from what I heard, it was often debatable who was more outrageous. Gandalf, or her.”

The wizard sputtered in indignation. He was a Maia. Not some misbehaving child. Although, now that he was thinking about it, Belladonna almost always got her way with him. She outmanoeuvred him successfully, often getting him out of Shire, long before he was ready to go. “I am a fool.”

Bilbo smirked at the wizard and flushed in pleasure when Thorin whispered. “Devious little hobbit.”

The hobbit swatted Thorin. “Not now, Thorin. Just think of a comfortable bed waiting on us in Imladris.” Bilbo said as he spurred his pony to run at the quicker his pace towards the elves that lurked nearby, forcing his dwarrow to speed up. The satisfaction of getting one over the meddling wizard quickly faded under the restless pursuit of an orc pack. All of them were focused on getting to elf patrol. Their poor ponies were getting tired.

“Don’t get split,” Thorin shouted in alarm. The wargs and their riders were rapidly gaining on them. They flanked the fleeing Company, trying to cut them off the only available escape route. “Turn left. Left, I said.” The sentinel ordered as he changed sharply the direction, narrowly missing an orc archer.

“They are herding us towards the outcrops.” Dwalin guessed the orcs’ uncharacteristic strategy.

“Let them,” Gandalf replied tersely and murmured a spell under his breath. The sharp rocks rose from the ground behind them, slowing down their pursuers. “Come on. To the rocks. Quickly.”

“It would be great if your pointy-eared friends would show up,” Thorin grumbled. The orcs overcame the temporary setback Gandalf arranged and managed to surround them.

“They smell much worse than trolls,” Bilbo said in stage-whisper, staring pointedly at the leader of the pack.

“You little rat.” The orc hissed through his teeth advancing menacingly at the guide. “I’m going to feast on your flesh. And I will throw your bare bones to my warg to chew upon.”

“I’m not for eating,” Bilbo snarled and waved his little sword threateningly.

“Oh, and how will you prevent it? Are you going to poke me with that toothpick, little guide?” The orc taunted.

“Not quite.” Bilbo steeled himself. The elves were not far away. He had to play for time. Or not. He narrowed his eyes, considering the best course of action he could take.

“Are you out of your mind? What are you doing, Bilbo?” Thorin asked under his breath worried about his guide. After the barely-avoided need to use the acorn during that little meeting with trolls, he certainly didn’t approve Bilbo’s current rash actions. Adamantha’s colourful threats were ringing in his ears.

“NO, I’m not out of my mind. And don’t disturb me.” Bilbo retorted. The more he was using his empathy, the easier it was. He grabbed his power, mentally dipping in the vast untapped potential of his token and threw the empathic strike directly at the enemies. The orcs seized and fell from their wargs, overwhelmed by the guide’s attack. Bilbo staggered, almost falling from his pony before the dwarf managed to steady him. “Come on, Thorin. What are you waiting for? Get them. Or alternatively, do you want to be saved by elves?”

Thorin winced. He wouldn’t have lived that down, if anyone found out, he had to rely on the elves to help. He climbed down from his pony and called his dwarrow to attention. “Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!”

The sentinels in their midst flanked their leader and spread out between unconscious orcs.

Ori came to Bilbo and asked his fellow guide curiously, while they were observing the sentinels efficient work on dismembering the orcs. “How did you do it? I’ve never seen anything like this. I wasn’t aware it was possible.”

“I wondered, why you didn’t approach me earlier.” Bilbo mused. “You are a fairly strong guide, Ori, but I can feel you are not very well trained.”

“There wasn’t time,” Ori admitted quietly. “I wasn’t expected to awaken anytime soon, so I didn’t get any preliminary training. I awakened unexpectedly shortly after the Company left Ered Luin for the Shire and almost instantly bonded with Fíli. Nori is giving me some pointers when he isn’t busy.”

“You need in-depth training from a dwarf guide. I’ve noticed you, dwarrow, are fairly insular, and invest themselves deeply in the bond with their sentinel.” The dwarf nodded, flicking his eyes to Fíli. “We, hobbits, on the other hand, are more open with our feelings. The peace in the Shire is mainly maintained by the continuous work of our gifted pairs working in tandem. According to my mother, in that way we are similar to elves.”

“It should be interesting to try if you are amenable,” Ori said, eyes alight with determination.

Bilbo nodded. He wasn’t surprised by Ori’s request. The scribe was jealously guarded by Fíli. He hardly allowed Kíli and Nori to approach the young dwarf. If Bilbo had to take a guess, it had something to do with the distinctly feminine flavour of Ori’s mind.

The dwarrow snapped their attention to the outcrop they were headed to when the orcs cut them off. A pair of well-armed riders rode ahead to meet the Company.

“Elladan, Elrohir. Well, met.” Gandalf called out to them.

“Well, met, Mithrandir.” The twin elves replied unison.

“I see you had everything in hand. Although, I am obligated to ask, who is the guide?” The twin on the right side asked.

“That would be me.” Bilbo joined the conversation, drawing attention to himself. “May I ask why do you want to know it?”

“Just curious.” One twin cocked his head, staring at the hobbit. Bilbo squirmed uncomfortably under their scrutiny.

“Let’s not tarry.” Other twin butted in, looking around sharply, searching for danger. “Follow us.” He called over his shoulder, as he turned back to use the path they had come.

“Let’s go.” Thorin got on his pony and trailed after elves reluctantly.

Gandalf joined the twins chattering with them amicably in Sindarin. Bilbo dismissed the wizard’s actions as inconsequential and focused on staying in the saddle. The attack on orcs took a lot from him. He just wanted a hot meal and a bed. A bath wouldn’t be amiss either.

They passed through the hills, on the narrow road, and suddenly the entirety of Imladris was revealed to them. “Oh. This is beautiful.” Bilbo blinked and exhaled in surprise. The peacefulness of the elf city underneath them was a balm on his battered mind. He directed his pony to head down into the valley, decidedly ignoring his sentinel’s glower.

Thorin scowled darkly at the obvious reverence his guide showed to the elf city and trotted after him. He refused to lose him to those pointy-eared menaces.


	7. Part 7

The dinner was a highly uncomfortable affair. It ranked right up to Lobelia’s repeated attempts to steal his silverware in its unpleasantness. Bilbo had never believed the tales of the animosity between elves and dwarrow, but after that meal, he was forced to reconsider. Why his mother didn’t warn him about the elves’ attitudes, he didn’t know, but he was sorely tempted to give every one of them a mental equivalent of spanking. Really… They were old enough to know better.

And the less was said about his dwarrow, the better.

By the end of the meal, the small amount of peace that managed to soothe his frazzled mind vanished under the pressure of complicated undercurrents and social grandstanding between two races. Bilbo couldn’t concentrate on eating, while his sentinel was embroiled in a not-so-subtle battle of wills with Lord Elrond. What he needed was peace and quiet. Maybe a small walk in the gardens would restore some measure of calmness.

Taking the first possible chance, Bilbo excused himself from the table and disappeared unobtrusively, nudging Thorin slightly on his way out to let him know where he was heading. Not waiting for his dwarf’s acknowledgement, Bilbo wandered out.

The elf kingdom was beautiful, no matter what his sentinel thought about it. Bilbo sighed and relaxed his shields in what felt like forever. The maintenance of the bond wasn’t high on his agenda during the journey, and the wear showed. He found a place he liked and promptly planted his ass on the ground. He was going to meditate if it was the last thing he was to do.

Bilbo closed his eyes and lost himself in the feeling of safety and peace the lands excluded. The acorn levitated out of his hidden pocket, gently shining with blue light, strengthening his connection to the Blessed Realm. The tranquillity of the moment helped him to replenish his strength and repair his shields. Truth be told it was a relief.

The hobbits’ powers were deeply invested in nature. Since he left the borders of Shire, he was left unanchored. When he passed on his responsibilities to Drogo, he renounced his place in the Shire. He wasn’t able to bond to the land of his sentinel, yet, as they were months away from Erebor. What he would give for his mother to be alive to ask if she experienced similar predicament, and what he could do to mitigate the consequences.

“Oh, pardon me. I didn’t expect anyone to be here.” A soft voice interrupted him.

With a blink, the acorn vanished inside his pocket and Bilbo stared up at the elf lord. He quickly stood up, making an effort to distract Elrond. “You have a beautiful garden. Very relaxing. Any hobbit worth his name would be proud to have the garden like this one.”

Elf’s stern features softened with the smile. “Thank you, Master Baggins, for your kind words. It is one of the joys I have left in the world.”

Bilbo reached out instinctively to soothe elf’s sadness. “You are a guide,” The elf lord realized in surprise. It had been a long time since one of the gifted ventured into Imladris. Most of them tended to avoid his lands.

Bilbo sniffed and tightened his shields, pulling his leaking surprise inside. He narrowed his eyes at the elf and touched fleetingly his mind to gauge his intentions. Bilbo immediately recoiled back, wincing in the pain lashing out of elf, as he recognized what happened to Elrond. The elf was a guide, forced dormant by the death of his sentinel. He finally understood his mother and her warnings. The elf’s mind was throbbing with a violent severance of the bond. The wound was festering inside, soothed for a time, and then ripped open violently, once again.

“As you are.” Bilbo’s mouth said without his permission. The hobbit winced, recalling his impressions about the elf lord.

“Were.” Elrond corrected sadly, while he trailed a cuff on his left wrist reverently. “But not anymore. Not for a few centuries.”

“I am sorry for your loss.” Bilbo bowed awkwardly. Nothing in the Shire prepared him to face such a loss in another. Yavanna was merciful enough not to let one of the gifted pair lingering long after the death of their bonded.

Elrond waved the apology away. “I shall leave you to your meditation, Master Baggins.“

Bilbo inclined his head and watched the elf lord to leave. The brief meeting with Lord Elrond left Bilbo much to ponder. The mediation was a lost cause at that point. He took off the opposite direction, hoping to settle his mind with a long walk around the gardens.

The insistent tugging on the bond brought Bilbo back to the present. He frowned. Thorin was looking for him. Sending back the assurance, he slowly turned back to find out what was so important, he had to return immediately. He turned around the corner when his ears twitched as he caught a snippet of a private conversation. Yavanna had to lead his actions because Bilbo ducked into an alcove without hesitation. Gandalf and Elrond walked by his hiding place, arguing about something vehemently. He was going to leave them to it when he overheard Thorin’s name. Soundlessly, he sneaked up on them, listening attentively, what they were discussing.

“What if he succumbs to the gold madness of his forefathers. You know Thrór and Thráin were both afflicted with it.” The elf lord asked while he tapped his fingers over the folded parchment.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes, questions whirling in his mind. What was Lord Elrond doing with Thorin’s map? Did Gandalf give it to him? If so, then how did Gandalf obtain it?

Gandalf nodded. “I know it’s a risk. But we have to undertake it. Both – his father and his grandfather – they weren’t called. They weren’t bonded. And I think it will be Thorin’s salvation.”

“Ah. So it’s true. The dwarf king is a sentinel. I did wonder whom the hobbit guide belong to. He felt like a bonded guide.” Elrond surmised, pacing around. He glared at the meddling Maia. “And you didn’t think to warn me?”

Gandalf ducked his head, taking elf’s reprimand to his heart. “I am sorry for your loss, Elrond, I really am. But it happened millennia ago. You should let him go.”

“It’s not something you’ll ever understand, Olórin,” Elrond replied sharply. “I lost my other half in that damned battle. My gifts retreated immediately, shielding me from his death. It’s a miracle I didn’t die then, with him.” Elrond smiled bitterly. “Alas, Eru had other plans for me.”

“Elrond.” Gandalf addressed the elf, sounding regretful.

“Enough about me.” Elrond snapped the map open and hummed. The moonlight touched the parchment and it started glowing. “Moon runes. Interesting. I haven’t had seen such since Durin’s son fled Moria.” The elf murmured tracing the silvery letters.

“What do they say?”

The riddle was simple enough. “If you have a key and stand at the wall, the thrush knocks during the Durin day and you’ll find a secret door.” The elf paraphrased and sighed. “Erebor. Really, Gandalf. Must you meddle? I hoped you wouldn’t be so foolish… Why now?”

Gandalf got serious. “We noticed some troubling signs lately. The orcs are on the move. Just a few packs here and there, but they are getting everywhere. I’m sure you got the report from your patrol. The pack we encountered was slightly larger than usual ones, but still… That they dare to go so deep inside Eregion, is deeply worrying.”

“You think the Enemy is on the rise.” Elrond stilled, shuddering. “You can’t just arbitrarily decide on the course of action on your own, Olórin. You should have come to the White Council with this matter. Fortunately for you, most of us are already here, on Aiwendil’s request.”

“The White Council is too slow to react to this threat. We need to act now before it’s too late.” Gandalf defended himself. “We need to strengthen our defences in the east.” Flicking his gaze towards the statue with a broken sword. “We cannot rely on Gondor. Not yet. Not while our hope is so young. Rohan’s king is old and his son is too young. They won’t be of any help. And Erebor was always a watchtower of North.”

Closing his eyes Elrond let his power of prescience free. His Vilya glowed softly, helping him to channel his power properly. A series of images passed in his mind rapidly. He frowned. Something wasn’t right. Various paths opened and closed in instant. The decisions made and unmade, as Elrond restlessly followed the path to the best outcome. Startled, he let go of the last vision and glared at the grey wizard. “You are playing with fire, my friend.”

“Aren’t we all,” Gandalf said ruefully and packed up the map. “But even the smallest person can change the course of the future.”


	8. Part 8

“What are you doing so far away from the Shire, little hobbit.” A curious voice asked suddenly, startling Bilbo out of his wits. 

The guide turned around quickly and blasted the perpetrator with his empathy. The brown wizard staggered, not prepared for the assault, and fell on his ass undignifiedly. Bilbo smirked at him. “Not your business, wizard.”

Radagast raised himself from the floor, leaning heavily against his staff and cursed the hobbit under his breath. “A guide. I should have known. Why is it always the guides, who get to me?” 

“I had a few bad days.” Bilbo waved him away, unconcerned. “You shouldn’t startle me so. What if I did something worse than that. Anyways, are you always so rude, Master wizard?”

“And lecturing about manners. You, hobbits, value the strangest things. I am Radagast.” The brown wizard grumbled under his breath, the grip on his staff tightening. “Yavanna’s blessing, Master hobbit.”

“Bilbo Baggins, Master Radagast. Yavanna’s blessings.” The guide bowed. “Are you here for the council?”

“Maybe.” The brown wizard stared at Bilbo speculatively. “Have Gandalf mentioned something?”

“I am sure it just slipped from his mind,” Bilbo said evenly while playing with a hem of his vest, trying to look innocent. “He seems to be unable to remember the correct way to convey important information.”

Radagast smirked. “It would serve him well, the old meddler if you showed up there. The strongest of Yavanna’s gifted are always welcomed in the Council.”

“I heard all about it. My mother, Belladonna, was the last hobbit to join.” Bilbo leaned and whispered conspiratorially. “Not that I planned to attend. From what I could gather from my mother’s experiences, I wouldn’t be interested in joining. My companions and I are just passing through Lord Elrond’s realm and had unfortunate timing.”

Radagast nodded. The hobbit seemed to be a sensible young thing. His companions not so much. “I remember you arrived with the dwarrow. I think I recognize some of them.” The wizard mused aloud. Bilbo cringed, as he sensed the dawning realization in the Maia. “You are going to the east?” The wizard guessed. “Erebor?” He exhaled in horror. It was eerie how similar was Maia’s reaction to the one his grandfather had when he first learnt where he was heading. 

“As I mentioned earlier. It’s not your business, Master wizard.” Bilbo said spitefully. He had enough of the nonsense from every Maiar he encountered. He was not a helpless little flower, needing constant care and protection. He was an adult, for Yavanna’s sake. A married and bonded guide. 

“Very well.” Radagast snorted in indignation. “In that case, I would recommend you to leave Rivendell as soon as possible. The members of White Council won’t take well to your desire to disturb the dragon nesting in the Lonely Mountain.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the wizard’s theatrics. Right now, that damned dragon was the last of his worries. His mind was swirling with the information he overheard Lord Elrond and Gandalf discussing earlier. Not to mention the number of fell creatures they crossed the path with in the relatively short amount of time. 

The wizard was clearly torn. On the one hand, there was a real threat of orcs spreading across the lands, on the other a dragon was most likely asleep. With a little luck, they might even succeed to kill him. On the other hand, there was one of his patron’s hobbits intent on courting the danger. 

“I expect Gandalf to take you to the mountain pass. Don’t go there.” Radagast finally decided to warn the recalcitrant hobbit. “It’s the mating season for Stone Giants. You’ll get stuck in one of their battles if you are not careful. I recommend you take the old elf path through the Misty Mountains. It’s a fair distance from the Stone Giants, so their violent squabbles shouldn’t affect you adversely. If you don’t stray from the path, you should get directly to the Old Forest Road. It’s the shortest and best-maintained way through Thranduil’s forest. If you aim to avoid the attention of that ornery old elf king, this is your best bet.”

Bilbo narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the wizard. “Why are you helping us?”

Radagast patted Bilbo’s head condescendingly. “Don’t you worry your pretty head about it, little guide. Just make your stubborn sentinel follow my advice.”

Bilbo smacked the offending hand away from his hair and scowled. He opened his mouth to give the brown pest a piece of his mind when he heard Thorin calling him. “Bilbo?” 

The hobbit took his eyes from Radagast, only for that infuriating wizard to vanish. “There you are. I was looking for you.” Thorin said, nuzzling against Bilbo’s throat, inhaling his scent deeply, settling his senses on his guide.

Bilbo shook his head and burrowed deeper into Thorin’s embrace. “I had the strangest encounter with Radagast.” He informed his sentinel quietly. The wizard’s advice was a boon, he didn’t expect, but was appreciated. 

“Who?” Thorin asked, looking around and not seeing anyone. 

“Radagast. A wizard.” was Bilbo’s blunt answer.

Thorin winced and asked plaintively. “There are more of them?” 

“Unfortunately,” Bilbo snorted and explained. “I know about three of them. Gandalf, who hoodwinked us to take care of the dragon problem, then chatty Radagast with a bit of good advice, I’ll tell you about later, and finally Saruman, the head of the order of wizards. I think there are two more, but I’m not too sure about it. Anyways, Radagast said something about the mountain pass, that has me thinking.” He grabbed Thorin’s arm and dragged him towards the library. “We are in dire need of a map.”

The library was almost empty. The size of the room and the breadth of knowledge hidden there was intimidating. Bilbo shrugged. He had a map to find. Following his instincts, he entered the room. He stopped at the desk burdened by the high stacks of books and little boy engrossed in them. 

_A little sentinel-in-making._ Bilbo realized. His powers were still sleeping. Knocking politely at the rudimentary shields in the boy’s mind, he managed to grab his attention.

The boy looked up and inclined his head respectfully, the sleeping power perking up in the presence of a strong guide. “Mae govannen!”

“Mae govannen, little one,” Bilbo replied thinking about how to approach the little boy without unduly alarming him. Deciding on the course, the hobbit bowed, while elbowing his sentinel to follow his lead. “I am Bilbo, guide of Thorin. And this grumpy dwarf is my sentinel, Thorin.”

The boy relaxed, laughing at the disgruntled older sentinel. “My name is Estel.” 

“Ah. So, that’s what Gandalf meant by young hope.” Bilbo murmured as he eyed the boy’s rounded ears. “Never mind. Estel, could you, perhaps, be kind enough and direct us to the maps of Eriador and Misty Mountains. Also, a map of Rhovanion wouldn’t be amiss.”

The boy jumped at the chance to help a guide. “I know where the maps are stored. Please, follow me and I will show you.”

Bilbo trailed after little Estel, dragging his reluctant sentinel along. Something occurred to the hobbit and he asked his dwarf. “By the way, Thorin. Did you know Gandalf helped himself to the map of Erebor? He showed it to Lord Elrond earlier.”

“That old meddler. I ought to…”

“Psst. Young ears.” Bilbo warned his incensed sentinel. “Besides, I might have overheard them talking about it. As much as I hate to admit it, Gandalf was right to come here. Lord Elrond read and translated the moon runes very quickly. I know, basically, what was written there. If you liberate the map from Gandalf, we can be out of the valley before the White Council descends on the Imladris.”

“Ah, so you know about it,” Thorin murmured to his guide, while they followed Estel deeper into the room. “I heard Elrond’s sons mention that their father is hosting it. Judging by the increasing number of entourages arriving during the dinner.”

“The maps are stored here.” Estel pointed suddenly at the bookcase full of dust and parchments. 

Bilbo smiled at the boy and said kindly. “Thank you, Estel. We’ll take it from there.” 

“And someone is calling for you,” Thorin added, cocking his head curiously. “Erestor?”

“My tutor. It’s my bedtime.” Estel explained shortly and bowed to the pair, before running away. “It was nice to meet you.” He called over his shoulder.

“Nice boy. Very helpful.” Thorin commented as soon as Estel vanished from his sight. 

“Hmm. Did you say something?” Bilbo asked distractedly, his fingers brushing against book spines, searching for the right one. “Ah, here it is.” The hobbit picked out the particular book and opened it, quickly browsing through the content. 

Bilbo sighed and fingered the page with exquisitely rendered Middle Earth. “It’s a pity we don’t have time to copy this map. It would be very helpful.”

“Hmm. I’ve seen better,” Thorin grumbled, stretching his senses. There wasn’t anybody around. Good. He quickly tore off the map and closed the book with a loud snap.

“THORIN!” Bilbo cried out indignantly at the vandalism. The sentinel took the book from Bilbo’s hands and placed it back on the shelf.

“What? It’s not like they are going to miss one map. At least judging by the amount of dust on this shelf.” Thorin calmly explained, as he rolled the liberated parchment and hid it under his tunic, while deftly ignoring his fuming guide. “Let’s go. We have everything we came for.”


	9. Part 9

“Left.” Thorin snarled, hands crossed on his chest, desperately trying not to wring the hard-headed hobbit’s neck. It was getting on his last nerve, that his guide wasn’t going to bend. Their bond was pulsing with passionate feelings bouncing from one side to another. The company silently observed the battle of wills between their leader and his guide. The bets were made, who was going to win, as the argument escalated into a shouting match.

Bilbo glared at Thorin, hands on his hips, chin stubbornly titled up. He knew he was right. If only Thorin was willing to accept his explanation. “Right.” Bilbo snapped out childishly. Even days later, deep in the Misty Mountains, he was still a bit miffed about Thorin’s actions in Imladris.

“Left.” The air was starting to tint blue, as the emotions heightened and Thorin’s spirit animal appeared in the clearing. The large cat-like creature took an interest in proceedings and settled beside the company. Other dwarrow gave Aderes a wide breadth. Her obvious predatory nature spooked some of them, even after years of knowing about her. She sat back on her haunches staring avidly at the ongoing argument, head tilted on the one side. Thorin glared at her, betrayed, as he sensed Aderes was rooting for Bilbo. His spirit animal was very enamoured by his guide. 

“For the love of Yavanna. Are you going to listen to me finally, Thorin? It’s right.” Incensed hobbit said, gesticulating wildly at the overgrown way on his right side. Suddenly, Bilbo had enough. The stubborn dwarf wasn’t listening to him. He grabbed the map out of Thorin’s hands turned it around and pointed the way. “For the last time, Thorin. We are going to turn right.”

The sentinel blustered. “How was I to know those leaf-headed menaces wrote the map upside down.”

Bilbo cocked his head curiously and murmured. “You held it wrong.”

Thorin blushed. He really hated reading the maps. It just wasn’t his forte. Give him any mine any day and he would find his way out blindfolded. Glaring at his snickering nephews, he said petulantly. “Fine. We’ll go right.”

Bilbo blinked at Thorin’s sudden capitulation. It was a very unexpected turn of events. A wave of embarrassment hit Bilbo. Ah. He understood his dwarf suddenly. The guide sent soothing feelings back along their bond, gentling out the fractures caused by their unnecessary argument. 

The sacks of gold flew in the air, exchanging the hands quickly. Bilbo rolled his eyes at the Company’s antics. As if there was any doubt he would get Thorin to see the things his way.

“So, that’s why you insisted on all those additional lessons from Balin?” Fíli asked, barely hiding laughter. Kíli wasn’t even trying to be discreet and laughed uproariously at his uncle. 

“And why are we not going to left?” Gandalf appeared out of nowhere to ask. “The Mountain Pass is there and if I remember correctly it’s the fastest way through the Misty Mountains.”

“I see you finally caught up to us.” Bilbo raised an eyebrow at the wizard. “Took you longer than I thought. I expected you to show up yesterday.”

“Unforeseen circumstances.” Gandalf grimaced at the unpleasant thought. “Why aren’t we going through the mountain pass? Is something wrong with the path?”

“Shouldn’t you know? I mean… Don’t you, wizards, discuss things like normal people? You know, without all of that cryptic nonsense. Just straight answers to the direct questions.” Bilbo tightened his grip on his pony, clearly fighting with himself not to give in to the wizard. Glancing at his sentinel, he relented. The information was too important not to share it with others. “Radagast warned me. Didn’t he say anything to you? Really? I wonder what were you talking about then?”

“Well, we were discussing very important matters.” Gandalf pouted. “Can you tell me what Radagast said to you?”

Bilbo smirked. “I have four words for you. Stone Giant’s mating season.”

Gandalf grimaced. He completely forgot about it. Fortunately, Radagast managed to impart that bit of knowledge in the hobbit, who was shrewd enough to lead the Company away from that disaster-waiting-to-happen. “So, which way are we going, then?”

Bilbo tapped the map and said. “Old elf path. It should take us directly to the Old Forest Road.”

“Hmm.” Gandalf looked at the parchment. “I see you borrowed the map from Imladris.”

Bilbo promptly pointed at his dwarf and tattled. “It was his idea.”

“Thorin?” Gandalf addressed the dwarf sentinel with amusement barely hidden on his face. That tedious elf-dwarf tiff was rearing its head again. 

“What? We needed that map. And they weren’t using it. It just laid on the shelf gathering the dust. I liberated it from its place and put it for use.” Thorin explained for what it felt like a thousand time. “That reminds me, Gandalf. I would like you to return my property back to me. And… it would be great if you didn’t borrow my things without permission in the future to show it to your elf friends.”

“Ah.” Gandalf dithered not expecting to be called out on his behaviour by the dwarf king. He was sure he would have returned Thorin’s map without anyone wiser if only the Company didn’t leave Imladris so quickly.

“Well?” Thorin raised an eyebrow at the unrepentant menace masquerading as a wizard and waved his hand impatiently.

Gandalf sulked but he forked Thorin’s property over. No respect for a hard-working wizard in these dwarrow. And hobbit. _Mustn’t forget Bilbo. Why exactly did I choose him for this quest?_ The wizard asked himself again. The hobbit guide was a very contrary creature with a sharp tongue he often enjoyed using on him. _And very perceptive. Maybe too perceptive._ Gandalf narrowed his eyes at Bilbo, wondering. 

“Anyways, what were you discussing at the Council?” Bilbo asked, suddenly curious, ignoring Gandalf’s thoughtful stare. “Those important matters, you mentioned. Something, you want to share with us?”

“Nothing of consequence in relation to the quest.” The wizard swiftly replied and smirked slyly at the hobbit. “You would have known all about it if you had attended the meeting.”

“Not interested.” Bilbo snorted in derision. “I have no need to endlessly discuss things with a group of old windbags without doing something constructive. My mother, Yavanna bless her, expressed her opinion about your little meetings very colourfully. It made an impression.” The dwarrow snorted at their hobbit’s refusal to take the wizard’s bait. 

“You could have at least waited for me.” Gandalf pouted. “Last meeting didn’t take long.”

“And risk your friends to try to stop us? No, thanks. Besides, I was pretty sure you would be able to follow us.” Bilbo looked Gandalf up and down. “And I was right. No harm, no foul.” 

“Shouldn’t we continue on our way?” Thorin interrupted the banter between his guide and the wizard, as he eyed the position of the sun in the sky. “We’ll need to find a place to camp for a night fairly soon. Bilbo?”

Leaving the wizard to stew over his unsuccessful attempt to get him to join his shenanigans, Bilbo nudged his pony on the left path, with his dwarrow following after him obediently. _Really, one would think they’ve never met a powerful guide._ Bilbo mused, lost in his thoughts. _Although. There seem to be disproportionately more dwarrow sentinels than guides. Hopefully, they’ve just didn’t met their perfect match, yet. I don’t like being a matchmaker. It feels too much like circumventing a free will for my tastes. Hmm. I must think more about it._

Bilbo caught sight of glittering blue water amongst the trees not far from their current location. He stopped suddenly and hopped down from his pony, tossing the reins to Thorin. “We are camping here.” Bilbo declared over his shoulder, as he made his way towards the water. “There is a pond nearby.”

Thorin caved with a sigh and nodded. “All right, Bilbo. Go on.” The dwarf waved his hand. He swept the land with his senses and didn’t find anything too dangerous in their vicinity. Settling his senses back on his guide, the dwarf started to make the preparations for the night.

Bilbo smiled sunnily at his sentinel and asked coyly. “When you finish, maybe you can join me?” 

Thorin gulped. “Maybe.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.” Bilbo flirted back and vanished into the trees.

Thorin stared after his guide dreamily. The snickers from his Company returned his attention back to the task at his hand. The sooner he was finished the sooner he would be able to join Bilbo and relax for a change.

The small pond looked really tempting. Bilbo bit his lip, standing at the shore indecisively. The water was sparkling invitingly. He could make a quick dip while the dwarrow were building a camp nearby. He was so very tired of being dusty. Last bath he enjoyed was in Imladris. On the other hand, he teased Thorin with a time alone. What to do?

Suddenly, Bilbo heard rustling leaves. He turned around smiling. “Thorin?”

Something heavy hit his head from behind and Bilbo fell on the ground unconscious.


	10. Part 10

“Is it juicy? Is it crunchy? My precious. Is it something delicious to eat? Gollum is hungry. What do you think, precious?” A sing-song voice froze the blood in Bilbo’s veins, as the world swam back into focus. Bilbo groaned, rolled over and grabbed his head. It was throbbing with pain. He glanced up and finally noticed a strange hobbit-like creature peering down at him. Startled, he scrambled back, cursing as the pain spiked. He leaned heavily against the stone wall, using it as leverage, as he stood up slowly. The dizziness clouded his mind, dampening his abilities. The creature hopped back and forth muttering to itself. 

With no hope to extend his empathy without completely exhausting himself, Bilbo tried to focus on what the creature was muttering about. The guide winced at the colourful descriptions of its eating habits. Gollum ignored him, completely absorbed in his talk with an imaginary person. If he had to take a guess, the poor thing was quite mad. 

Bilbo squirmed at the oily feeling emanating from the creature. Even with his diminished abilities he could sense the corruption and madness deeply rooted in what was probably once hobbit. He hated the thought that something was able so utterly to destroy a fellow hobbit. To twist him so much, he was incapable of receiving Yavanna’s mercy. It had to be…

 _Something like this._ The hobbit glared at his fist and opened it. A plain golden ring was sitting innocently on his palm. The sheer amount of evil contained in that little trinket couldn’t mean anything good. It was making him nauseous when it tried to worm its hooks into his mind. But even in his weakened state his shields were quite robust and held under the attack. Bilbo isolated the foreign feeling and wrapped it in a cage made of his will and psionic energy. 

Fortunately, he was strong enough to contain the ring. The vigorous exercise, his gifts were given in the duration of this trip, was starting to show. He was getting stronger. Before he left the Shire, he wasn’t able to do the half of things he did for his dwarrow, now. Like getting into fights with trolls and orcs and winning. And he didn’t even have to tap into power stored in his acorn. Not that he wanted to do it. It was unthinkable for him to touch his token with a taint so heavily pressing upon him. He didn’t want to damage it. The acorn was too precious to risk it.

With a sigh, Bilbo wrapped the ring carefully in one of his handkerchiefs and put it in his pocket. His skin was crawling at the thought of the ring touching him, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He refused to leave it behind for anyone stumbling across it. Bilbo shuddered. The ring pleaded with him to put it on his finger. It was bad enough, he had to take it. No need to invite its corruption into his mind if he didn’t want to end up like that poor mad thing.

His poor father would have been disappointed in him for sure because instead of getting rid of the ring as soon as possible, he was planning to guard it. It seemed he was getting more and more alike to his mother. She would be all over the ring to destroy it, no matter what she would have to do. That showed Bilbo, he wasn’t a proper hobbit anymore, at least according to the hobbit standards. And as a distance from the Shire grew, he cared for it less and less. His dwarrow direct manners, often to the point of rudeness, were rubbing on him.

“My precious. You took my precious.” Gollum hissed into Bilbo’s ear. “Where is it? Give it back. Give it back, thief.”

Bilbo backpedalled, holding his chest in fright. The moment of inattention while he was securing the ring, allowed Gollum to sneak upon him. Spying a tunnel on the other side of the cave, he tried to make his way unobtrusively towards it. “I’m not a thief.” He denied and took a little step in that direction. 

“You have it. You have my precious.” Gollum snarled as he followed the hobbit around the cave, focused intently at the hobbit’s pocket. Bilbo had to stifle his desire to pat his pocket with a hidden ring and give up his deception.

The hobbit didn’t like what he had to do next. It was frowned upon in the Shire to subvert someone in the way he planned. Bilbo pointed on the opposite side of the cave, infusing his voice with a heavy dose of suggestion. “I am not a thief Gollum. But I think I saw something gleaming that way.”

Bilbo watched as Gollum’s eyes glazed over as his suggestion took hold in his mind and the almost-hobbit scurried away. A sharp pain lanced through his head as if to punish him for using his abilities in such way and caused Bilbo to stagger into the passage he noticed earlier. He grasped blindly at the wall to regain his balance, so he could leave the cave and search for his sentinel. 

_Thorin has to be near._ Bilbo realized when he noticed insistent tugging at his bond with the dwarf sentinel. He was tempted to respond but he knew it would be last straw for his abilities. He wasn’t that desperate yet. Bilbo dragged himself in the direction he was guessing Thorin was coming hoping his dwarf wasn’t too far away.

“Liar. Thief.” Gollum snarled and jumped on Bilbo from behind, trying to wrap his hands around his neck. The hobbit ducked, narrowly missing Gollum’s attempt to trap him in his grasp. His hand grazed the sword on his hip. Bilbo grimaced. Those few lessons in sword-fighting Thorin made him take with Dwalin and Fíli weren’t enough. He had no choice but to defend himself. 

“Back off.” Bilbo waved the sword around trying to look like he knew what he was doing. It helped to a point. Gollum backed down a little, watching him carefully for any opening in his defences.

“Thorin. Here.” Bilbo shouted out as soon as he heard his sentinel trampling towards him. He dodged another attempt from Gollum to take him down. He slashing his sword blindly, and by sheer luck, he managed to cut Gollum across his chest. 

The twisted creature hissed, glaring hatefully at him. “Give it back. Give me back my precious.” 

“Don’t count on it,” Bilbo said resolutely. The corrupted ring wasn’t getting out of his custody until it could be safely destroyed. Besides, his sentinel was almost there. He needed to hold on for a few more moments. Then he would gratefully leave the resolving Gollum problem in his capable hands.

The rage descended on Thorin when he heard his guide was in danger from an unknown assailant. It was the same scent he detected at the place from where his guide was taken. When he noticed Bibo was missing, he immediately called his fellow sentinels to help him track the hobbit down.

“Uncle, wait,” Fíli shouted after him. The older sentinel wasn’t in the mood to listen and hurried to his guide’s side. “After him.” The young dwarf took the command in the place of his uncle since the older dwarf was distracted by his hobbit. He had barely finished speaking when they heard a wet squelch and a dull thud ahead of them. 

Thorin, supporting poor exhausted Bilbo, emerged from the darkness. Raising an eyebrow the dwarf asked sarcastically. “What were you waiting for? Engraved invitation, perhaps?”

Bilbo choked out a laugh and elbowed his sentinel none too gently. “Don’t be so funny when I am too tired to appreciate it properly.”

Thorin huffed and guided Bilbo out, admonishing loudly other dwarrow. “Well… They were just standing there looking pretty.”

Bilbo put his hand on Thorin’s cheek. “Don’t be so hard on them. They couldn’t have known…”

“That you could take care of the threat on your own.” Thorin interrupted him. “I agree. As soon as I find a bit of time I’ll make sure to amp up their training. Such lapse of judgement is not acceptable in our circumstances.”

Bilbo scrunched his nose in disgust. “I admit it was unpleasant. In the future, I’ll gladly leave dealing with similar unpleasantness to you, Thorin.” 

The hobbit tilted his head towards the sun when they exited the cave, soaking up the energy to replenish himself. Blue light sparkled across Bilbo’s skin, healing the aches he accumulated in the last hours. He sighed in relief. 

Thorin grabbed his guide by his hips and planted a desperate kiss on his mouth, recent events finally taking their toll on his control. Bilbo moaned and relaxed against his sentinel’s frame. He was finally safe.

An impatient cough interrupted their make-out session. Thorin raised his head and glared at Fíli. “I’m busy, can’t you see?”

“Everyone can see it, uncle,” Fíli smirked suggestively. The hobbit flushed and burrowed his red face in Thorin’s chest. He totally forgot about their audience. Looking around anxiously, the young dwarf continued. “This place gives me creeps, uncle. We should return to the camp as soon as possible. I’m sure others are going out of their minds with worry.”

Thorin opened his mouth to send a sharp retort to his nephew when snarls coming out of the bushes proved the young dwarf right.


	11. Part 11

_Orcs? Again?_ _How is this my life?_ Bilbo rolled his eyes and sighed when an orc pack followed by hungry wargs rode out of the forest. By the hobbit’s reckoning, this entire adventure was getting more and more dangerous as time passed. And there were still weeks of travel left and a dragon waiting on them at the end of their journey. If his sentinel wasn’t hell-bent on tempting fate and getting his mountain back from the dragon’s clutches, he would have stayed in the safety in the Imladris. Or better yet. He wouldn’t leave the Shire no matter how attractive his dwarf was.

“Dwarf scum. I smell Durin blood.” The leader sniffed at the direction of Thorin and his nephews, startling Bilbo with a tale-tale action. There was no way that orc was a sentinel. No. Just no.

“Azog.” Thorin snarled, his hackles up. The orc filth had killed off most of his family, leaving only Dís and him to pick up the pieces. The air tinted blue and Aderes leapt in front of her sentinel, prowling agitatedly and glaring at the orcs. The sentinel pulled Bilbo behind him to shield him from their sight.

Bilbo elbowed the dwarf, glaring at him suspiciously. “Thorin, what did you do to gain so much orc followers? We are tripping over them at every corner. Is it your cologne or what?”

Thorin turned to his hobbit sputtering in disbelief. His dwarrow tittered with laughter, and the tension in the air temporarily eased. “Bilbo. Could you take our predicament at least a little bit more seriously?” The dwarf almost pleaded. The feisty hobbit was enjoying his job of turning his head completely silver with his propensity to run into danger headfirst.

Bilbo shrugged, ostensibly dismissing the orcs as unimportant, while keeping covertly a sharp eye on them. “I’m not sure what to think.” He waved negligently at the orc leader. “He seems to be most persistent of your admirers. Should I be jealous?” Glaring at Azog, Bilbo dropped down all of his shields without warning and sent out a concentrated emotional cocktail on the unsuspecting orcs. 

“Guide.” The pale orc realized as he shook off Bilbo’s attack. He snarled at his more resilient minions that threw off Bilbo’s influence without much difficulty. “Get him.”

The hobbit winced and let himself be drawn behind Thorin’s back. Bilbo’s fears came true. The pale orc was a sentinel. Or something akin to a sentinel. How could such a twisted creature retain a connection to the psionic plane was a question he wasn’t eager to get an answer to. Clutching his acorn in his fist, he tried to gather strength for another attack. It was going very slowly because he spent most of his power trying to incapacitate the orcs. He certainly wasn’t going to take a risk and expose his token to the twisted malice of an orc maybe-sentinel. 

“Over my dead body,” Thorin replied and drew his sword. He wasn’t going to let Azog rob him of his guide. He already lost most of his family to the vicious monster, he wasn’t losing his guide, too. It would probably send him to the deep end if Bilbo was killed by that orc. 

The rest of dwarrow followed Thorin’s example and the air was filled with the sounds of weapons hastily leaving their sheaths, prepared to defend their king and his guide even against the odds.

“Oh. I will kill all of your kin and your mate.” Azog promised sinisterly, salivating at the thought of finally destroying the line of his most bitter enemies. He wasn’t worried in the slightest about the dwarf scum and the pitiful guide in their midst. “I will enjoy it, as I will make you watch. As for you, little guide… I will go to your homeland and I swear by Morgoth I’ll burn it down.”

“Thorin.” Bilbo’s voice quivered. The certainty and evil intent emanating from Azog was making him nauseous. His poor kin wouldn’t stand a chance against such evil monster. But there wasn’t much he could do about it, only hope Thorin would deal with him once for all.

“I’m not going to allow him to target the Shire. I promise, Bilbo.” The dwarf sentinel tried to calm the hobbit down, glaring warily at the orcs around them. The situation wasn’t as dire as he thought, thanks to his guide. The hobbit took care of the most of the pack, in one swoop. It was clear to him now why the guides were considered to be more dangerous of the bonded pair. Thorin murmured a question to Fíli. “Where is the rest of our company?”

“Back at our campsite. They are packing everything as we speak.” Fíli replied evenly. Their chances weren’t great, but he had been in worse messes and got out of them more-or-less unscratched. 

A silent precise arrow took down one of Azog’s underlings, punching right through his eye. Thorin smirked, recognizing Kíli’s work, and pounced swiftly on the nearest enemy who was trying to sneak up to them and cut through the thick armour with ease. A large shadow covered the sun, followed by another, and the next one. Everyone looked up to see the cause of the sudden darkening of the day. 

The sky was full of large birds, furiously waving their wings. Thorin exhaled shudderingly in relief. The reinforcements had arrived. The great eagles swooped down, snatching the struggling dwarrow in their talons and flying away to Azog’s absolute fury.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Thorin?” Bilbo shouted as soon as they were in the safety, flying on the eagle’s back. His entire body was trembling with anxiety. “Are you out of your mind? Taking on the orcs willy-nilly. No. Wait. Don’t answer it. I don’t want to know.” The hobbit plopped down, drained and fed up with his sentinel’s and other dwarrow’s foolish antics. He closed his eyes to make an attempt at meditating the unpleasantness of another orc ambush out of his mind.

Thorin planted his ass beside the hobbit and buried his nose in his neck in lieu of an answer, and tried to centre himself on Bilbo’s scent and heartbeat. Finally putting the name to their enemy wasn’t a relief he thought it would be. It was probably one of the most emotionally wounding revelations in his life. He believed for decades Azog was dead. Killed in front of the gates of cursed Khazad-dûm by his own hand, when he was avenging the deaths of his father and younger brother. 

_Guide._ A deep predatory voice intruded on Bilbo’s mind, knocking on his shield impatiently. 

Bilbo straightened, almost dislodging Thorin from his side. He hushed the dwarf and turned back inwardly, searching for the voice. An image of another, much more majestic eagle with midnight blue feathers speckled liberally with cream spots slowly appeared in his mind. The eagle’s presence practically shone with a feeling of age and wisdom _Bilbo, if it pleases you, Master Eagle._

 _Gwaihir then, Bilbo the Guide._ The Great Eagle introduced himself in turn. _Truly a pleasure to meet one of the gifted._

 _Likewise._ Bilbo allowed. _May I ask why did you join your mind to mine?_ He asked politely, burning with curiosity. The Great Eagles were only very seldom seen patrolling the skies of Arda after the War of Wrath, their presence and their past deeds mostly fading into legend. 

_I sense a taint trying to find a hole in your defences. An evil waiting for a weak moment before it roots in your mind. A familiar evil._ The eagle warned. _Did you pick up something recently? A ring, maybe?_

Inadvertently, Bilbo sent an image of the plain gold band to Gwaihir. The trinket he took from that old corrupted thing was probably what the eagle had in mind. The hobbit frowned. It managed to already influence him in some minor way and buried his knowledge about its existence deep inside his subconsciousness. A cold sweat broke over Bilbo’s brow when the implications of the ring’s machinations were brought to the light. It was no good if it could make him forget, his formidable abilities notwithstanding. Bilbo fumbled trying to take it out of his pocket in haste. _Take it. Gwaihir. Please, take it. I don’t want it._

 _No. Absolutely not._ The bird refused sharply to even entertain a thought, of what he suspected was a Sauron’s last tie to the living world, to taint his eyrie with the maliciousness of the fallen Maiar. Besides, it wasn’t his or his nest-mates place to bear the burden of Sauron’s ring. Gwaihir sensed the destiny was stirring around the dwarf’s guide in a disconcerting manner. The Eagles had their own parts to play, in the story. _When you kill the dragon, come to Ravenhill._

 _A dragon? What dragon? I’m not sure what you are talking about._ Bilbo tried the innocent route. If Thorin knew even the Eagles were able to guess his intentions, he would have blown his top.

The hobbit got an eye roll from Gwaihir in return. _Please, don’t insult me. Erebor and the dragon dwelling inside are only matters interesting to Durin dwarrow on this side of Misty Mountains. Your sentinel wouldn’t have dragged you across half of Arda without a good reason. And this entire expedition has Grey wizard’s meddling written all over it. Just come and we’ll see then what we can do about ring disposal._

 _As soon as Smaug is killed._ Bilbo promised while he pushed back the ring’s slimy tendrils from his mind. Now that he was made aware of it, he could actively reject its influence. The hobbit was relieved the eagle implied he would help him with the burden of the ring. Taking a shiny gem out of the dragon’s den suddenly didn’t seem as dangerous as dealing with a little trinket hidden in his pocket. 


	12. Part 12

_“Bilbo,” Thorin growled, as soon as their feet touched the solid ground. The flying was great and all, but very disconcerting for the dwarrow who were deeply rooted in the ground. Also, the fear of his guide’s safety was still not quite behind him. The adrenaline was singing in his veins, begging for a different outlet. A more pleasurable affirmation of their bond was on Thorin’s immediate agenda, and he didn’t care about their audience._

_Bilbo pushed the sentinel on the ground and straddled his hips. “I’m not going to wait for another minute.” The hobbit whispered harshly, inhibitions lost in the flame of desire burning in his core. He ground down against the answering bulge in the dwarf’s pants and was rewarded by sentinel’s groans. It was heady to have that much power over Thorin._

_Distantly, they registered as the remainder dwarrow and the wizard scattered to give them at least some semblance of privacy. That and they weren’t interested to witness the intimate bonding between their king and his hobbit guide._

_“Wait. Wait. Let me.” Thorin panted out of a desperate plea. He was so turned on, it was bordering on painful. Finally losing the last bit of his patience, Thorin pulled his guide down and captured his lips. His wandering hands deftly unlaced the trousers and freed their erections. Bilbo moaned and arched against his sentinel to get as much friction as possible. It was too long for them. They wouldn’t last. The need, desire, fading adrenaline and fear coalesced in the volatile cocktail of emotions, unceremoniously hurtling them over the edge._

_Bilbo came to his senses with a feeling of cooling sticky mess between their bodies. A result of their wanton behaviour. The guide buried his face in Thorin’s shoulder, shaking with silent guffaws when the absurdity of the entire situation dawned on him. “That was quick.”_

_“Find me a bed and I’ll make it up to you,” Thorin promised gravelly, nuzzling his Bilbo’s hair. He was completely relaxed, wallowing in his guide._

_Bilbo shivered at the want still plainly evident in his sentinel’s voice. The memories of their initial bonding replayed in his mind in quick flashes. “I will.”_

* * *

“Where are you going, Gandalf?” Bilbo spoke, shrugging off the memories of that little pleasurable interlude. It was work of nothing to sneak on the shifty wizard. A week since the scare with Azog’s pack and the hobbit’s instincts were still on full alert. He didn’t miss the wizard’s odd preoccupation with something and his increasing worry the more they went south.

Startled, Gandalf jumped up a little and turned to Bilbo. It was interesting to see how far the child of his dear friend had come in such a relatively short amount of time – from a sheltered little hobbit encased in his safe little home in the middle of the peaceful Shire, to the fierce brave warrior. But there was no more time for ruminations, as a new urgency was prodding him to leave the Company and seek the enemy further in the southern part of Thranduil’s forest. Gandalf revealed reluctantly. “I am needed elsewhere, Bilbo. I’ve got an urgent message from Lady Galadriel about a necromancer in Dol Guldur.”

The guide cocked his head, trying to pinpoint what the wizard was talking about. He blanched. “Is it the darkness you were speaking about with Lord Elrond? The one you are so afraid of?”

“Maybe.” The wizard hedged. Bilbo raised his eyebrow. “Fine, you nosy little hobbit.” Quickly looking around, he admitted. “Lady Galadriel just confirmed it through her mirror. The necromancer is dangerous and can’t be left running around unchecked. His taint spread rapidly from the old fortress and infected the forest. Radagast was right. The White Council has to do something about it. We’ll try to eradicate the darkness from there. And hopefully, it would be enough to cleanse the forest.”

“I am not so sure,” Bilbo murmured, patting the pocket with the nasty ring, encasing it with another shield made of psionic energy. The hobbit was starting to suspect what was in his possession after Gwaihir’s more-or-less cryptic talk steered him towards the conclusion. And he didn’t like it at all. 

Gandalf frowned, sensing something amiss with the hobbit. “Do you have something you want to tell me? Anything?”

Bilbo shook his head in denial, as the ring forced him to. It was a slippery little bugger, for an inanimate object. The guide scowled and put another layer of protection on it. That thing was getting on his nerves. He was investing a lot of his power to contain it. He didn’t want that thing to start influencing his dwarrow. Who knew what would happen if the ring was allowed a free reign.

“Are you sure?” The wizard insisted, his magic prodding him to question Bilbo. There was something he failed to notice and it was rubbing him wrong.

“Yes, Gandalf, I am. Just…” Bilbo waved his hand tiredly, still trying to contain the rebelling ring. It tried to escape its confines and it was getting too distracting. “Ah, nothing. Do you have an estimate when are you going to join us in Erebor?”

“By Durin’s day, for certain. Maybe earlier. We’ll see how our outstanding appointment with the necromancer goes.” Gandalf replied promptly. He didn’t plan to let the dwarrow and his favourite hobbit wander into the mountain without his help. 

Bilbo nodded thoughtfully. “The necromancer. Are you sure you’ll be able to deal with him?”

“It shouldn’t be that bad. He is probably just some human dabbling in the things he had no business in. It happens sometimes. Then it falls to the White Council to clean up the mess.” Gandalf explained. 

Bilbo shrugged indifferently. He had enough of his own worries to delve deeper into the issues of the White Council. He was just glad he avoided attending one of their meetings. “Just make sure you join us in time. I don’t know if I’ll be able to delay Thorin from entering the mountain. The dwarrow are eager to reclaim their homeland.”

“Try,” Gandalf asked, although knowing the stubbornness of dwarrow, particularly of Durin’s line, it was probably a futile endeavour. The wizard had high hopes Bilbo might be able to stall them long enough for him to intervene with the dragon issue and thus avoiding the series of events that according to Vairë’s whispers ended with Durin line decimated and Bilbo returning to the Shire to spend the rest of his life alone. 

“I thought you, with all of your experience and long life, understood how the bond between a sentinel and a guide works.” Bilbo frowned. “Where my sentinel goes, I will follow. I’m certainly not going to prevent him from taking back what is his. It’s not my place. My place is standing beside him, supporting him in all of his endeavour, even foolish ones.”

“Well… That’s your prerogative.” Gandalf shook his head in the face of hobbit’s obstinacy. He winced when an insistent tug urged him to leave. Stretching his magic out, he followed his contemporaries’ progress to Dol Guldur. They were rapidly converging on the old fortress and he had no time to indulge himself in the half-cryptic puzzles he was so prone to confuse his friends and enemies with. “Now, if you excuse me, I’m needed elsewhere, Bilbo.” 

With a sigh, the hobbit stepped aside and let the wizard go. He detected an urgency pressing on the old meddler heavily. It reminded him uncomfortably of the Weaver’s threads tying everything to create a story. Or a destiny. “Good luck, Gandalf.”

“Thank you, Bilbo.” The old wizard winked, twirling his staff merrily and vanished into the night.

“That old medder left us again,” Thorin whispered into Bilbo’s ear. He woke up only moments ago to find his hobbit wide awake and engaged in a serious talk with Gandalf. The sentinel tried to refrain from eavesdropping overtly at them, but couldn’t help it and tuned in when they mentioned the wizard’s departure. 

Bilbo shrugged. “He has other duties to attend and I understand that. He is stretched too thin. You know, I think he is responsible for the entirety of Eriador and more than half of Rhovanion, not just this Company. His fellow wizards aren’t much of help, at least according to my mother’s recollections. Radagast is embroiled in the on-going fight with the spiders invading Mirkwood. And Saruman is content to sit in Isengard and wallow in his superiority, leaving the other races to their own devices.”

“So, we got stuck with Gandalf. The only half-decent wizard on this side of the sea. At least, he is willing to do something, even if his help consists mostly of cryptic remarks and running around to meddle.” Thorin sniffed hauntingly.

Bilbo patted his hand consolingly and tried to lift the sentinel’s morose mood. “He is not as irreplaceable as he thinks. We’ve managed quite well without him until now and we will continue to do so.”

Thorin sighed and relaxed slightly at his guide’s words. The hobbit was right. They didn’t need Gandalf to hold their hands. The company was capable of taking care of any threat. Maybe even the dragon. 


	13. Part 13

The company arrived at the Old Ford at a good time despite the orcs hunting them, prissy elves sticking their noses in things they weren’t welcomed to and one flighty wizard. The river was deep and treacherous, with only passage in a form of a wooden bridge. The dwarrow were looking at the structure dubiously, their craftsmen hearts crying at the sorry sight. The bridge had seen better days. About an Age or two ago.

Bilbo stiffened on his pony and halted abruptly, almost falling down. Malicious greediness and hateful anger that was slowly getting familiar to him was back on their trail. He jerked his head towards the danger and hissed. “Azog.”

“Where?” Thorin looked around trying to pinpoint the location of his most hated enemy. The pale orc was persistent in his desire to destroy the Line of Durin once for all.

“That way.” Bilbo pointed at the hill, not far away from their current location. They were in danger. Azog was rabid with rage at their successful escape earlier this week. The orc’s complicated and vicious mood was negatively affecting him. The guide drew back his awareness and nervously patted his pony’s mane.

Thorin frowned and took his guide’s hand to centre himself. He threw out all of his senses trying to see, hear, smell, what was scaring the hobbit. He blanched. Bilbo was right. The orcs were on the other side of the hill, their wargs quickly eating the distance between them. The snarl on Azog’s face was promising death to anyone in his way. Their escape made him look weak in front of his minions and he had to dispose of several of them because they got into their heads they could challenge him for his position. Then he made the rest of them run tirelessly over the last several days to catch up to Company so quickly.

“Everyone, listen,” Thorin shouted, keeping an eye on the rapidly approaching orc pack. The dwarrow quieted down immediately, detecting the seriousness in their leader’s voice. The other sentinels reached out, trying to detect the threat. “Azog is just behind the hill. Our only chance to get away from him is using the bridge over the ford and then destroying it before the orcs come in.”

Grumbling over the bridge’s sorry state, everyone shuffled down from their ponies and prodded them on the rickety bridge. There was no time to properly assess the damage the time made to the structure since the orcs were quickly gaining on them. Azog was relentless in his bid to kill Thorin and everyone associated with him.

The enraged howls and the stomping of the wargs just passed around the hill. The pack was on the direct path to the company, no longer hindered by any obstacle. Finally getting their prey into their sight, the pack sped up. It seemed the dwarf scum was fleeing on the other side of the river.

“Up and across,” Thorin shouted while he narrowly ducked an arrow aiming for his head from an overzealous crossbow and pushed Bilbo in front of him to shield him from the orcs riding to the riverside. The dwarrow and lone hobbit amongst them run across the bridge, praying the bridge would hold under their weight, despite the wooden structure’s ominous creaking and dangerous tilting from side to side. It was only by the grace of Eru, the company stumbled on the other side of the river without sustaining any injuries.

“Glóin, Dwalin. Get the axes. We have to cut off the piers. Quickly. before Azog gets here.” Thorin ordered when he grasped someone’s axe in his hand and ran back to the bridge.

First orcs were already entering the bridge. The trio of dwarrow hacked at the wooden pillars relentlessly trying to destroy them, and prevent orcs from reaching them. Meanwhile, the rest of the company calmed down the frightened ponies and checked their supplies to ensure they didn’t lose anything critical in their mad dash across the bridge.

“Thorin, quick,” Bilbo called out when he saw Azog following his underlings over the ford. The cracking noise increased as more and more weight was added to the unstable structure.

“I’m done,” Glóin shouted, with a last mighty strike against the wood.

“We, too,” Dwalin replied as they rushed back to their companions. They watched from the safe distance, as the wooden structure crumbled under the orc pack, depositing them in the middle of a furious river. Frightened snarls of the furry beasts and shouts of drowning orcs filled the air with vicious noises. Unfortunately, Azog wasn’t amongst the uglies swimming down the river. The pale orc managed to turn back before the bridge collapsed under his troops and currently he was pacing on the other side of the river and cursing loudly in Black speech. The sibilant speech of the language of Mordor sent a shiver of dread down the dwarrow’s spines.

Bilbo winced when the first orc’s life was put off forcefully and pulled the shields tightly around him in an attempt to mute the numerous deaths occurring just a few meters away from all of them. He extended the protection over distraught Ori when he noticed the young dwarf was suffering under the emotional weight of feeling the orcs’ deaths. Poor guide was almost untrained in his gifts and it showed. Bilbo quickly surveyed how affected the other gifted were. The sentinels were coping quite well, as it was in their nature. Only other guide in the Company fared better than poor sheltered Ori. Nori was experienced enough in the darker side of life, he was able to shield adequately on his own.

“As soon as we have some free time and privacy, Ori, we are going to do an in-depth training of your abilities. We can’t wait any longer to get you to a dwarf guide.” Bilbo announced unceremoniously. “You are a fairly strong guide, and it would be a pity if you damage yourself by your inability to shield yourself. I don’t know why your brothers didn’t insist on your training as soon as you awakened. And Fíli. It’s not to your credit you bonded with Ori when he was in such a vulnerable state. He is using your shields as a crutch to avoid constructing his own and it’s hurting both of you. I don’t want to see you, both of you, go dormant if the situation isn’t corrected.”

“My brothers couldn’t afford the tuition in the school for the gifted in Ered Luin.” Ori defended his brothers and looked down ashamed of their poverty. It was one of the reasons he didn’t have even any preliminary training, only what Nori managed to teach him on the sly.

Bilbo puffed out angrily and turned on his sentinel. “THORIN! Are you trying to imply your gifted aren’t trained unless they have enough money to afford it? That you have a population of untrained sentinels and guides, on the verge of losing their gifts, or worse, going feral without any guidance and causing untold damage to everyone? That’s it. Ori, parchment and pen, please.”

The young dwarf hastily gave the enraged hobbit the requested items, before seeking the safety in his sentinel’s arms. Bilbo scratched down the terse request to his grandfather and turned to Thorin. “Your sister is in charge, while you are away? Is that right?”

Thorin nodded. It was better for his health to answer his guide’s questions immediately before he decided to strangle him. “Princess Regent Dís, of the Line of Durin.”

“Right.” Bilbo scratched out the title on the second piece of Ori’s parchment. “I’m writing to my grandfather to gather a few of more adventurous Took and Brandybuck gifted and send them to your mountain. Each hobbit gifted gets the training for free. No one is left languishing.” He glared pointedly at his sentinel.

“I’m going to write Dís to welcome you kin in our settlement and to see to all of their needs,” Thorin added meekly, chastised by his guide. He was aware some of the gifted didn’t get the required training and was glad to be done with the elitism of the house of gifted.

“See to it,” Bilbo replied shortly, still incensed by the waste of talent. No wonder the settlement was on the verge of failing if they didn’t support their own citizens. Thorin whistled sharply and a couple of ravens, following them around. Carefully he tied the letters on their legs and shooed them away with a clearly stated destination. “Princess Dís, Ered Luin, Eriador. Gerontius Took, Thain of Shire, Eriador.”

The raven cawed in agreement and flew up and headed west, quickly vanishing from their sight amongst the clouds.


	14. Part 14

Unfortunately, as it seemed, Gandalf was right. The looming presence of the elf forest was making the fine hair on Bilbo’s neck stand up in warning. He sensed the foreign taint smothering the life inside the elf realm little by little. Turning to the south, he glared at the impenetrable trees and clamped down on the ring’s excitement. The darkness was slowly spreading from the ancient forest and it was making it hard to connect to the psionic plane. Bilbo was strangely hesitant about entering the forest. There was death lurking in the shadows and it was making him nervous, even if the sentinels didn’t notice anything was amiss.

“I just hope there won’t be any more unpleasant surprises. I had quite enough of the orcs and wargs. And we can’t forget the trolls.” Bilbo said and took out his acorn. He rolled it over in his palm, thinking heavily. He was leery of entering the woods without any protection in place. The guide was blaming the wizards for making him paranoid and resorting to such acts, as building a barrier of psionic energy. Drawing upon its strength, Bilbo spread out a shield over their group, covering all of them in the safe embrace of his power. In the light of his earlier impressions, the guide decided that a trek through the deadly forest warranted the best protection he could offer to his dwarrow. 

“Bilbo. It’s dangerous.” Thorin tried to remind him. Adamantha’s warnings were too pointed and explicit to forget anytime soon, although the wily old hobitess was half-continent away from them. She made an impression. It was very unfortunate, his hobbit took entirely after her in temperament.

The guide’s concentration wavered for a moment but the shield held. He shook his head and glared sharply at his sentinel. “Don’t distract me. I’ve almost dropped the shield. Besides, this is not as dangerous as you thought. The exercise I got during the way was very helpful. Sometimes nerve-wracking, but helpful. Now, hush, and let me concentrate.” Bilbo made his displeasure known. The foolish sentinel had almost caused the power he poured into the shield to double back at him. At the last moment, he managed to reign in it and channel the excess back into the shield, he was constructing.

Ori was staring at Bilbo’s efforts with his mouth open and stars in his eyes. He didn’t know the guides could shape the psionic energy in such a manner. There wasn’t even a hint from the scant information, he painstakingly gained, about it. Maybe it was only something Bilbo was able to do. The hobbit was an uncommonly strong guide, and in Ori’s humble opinion, his abilities were sometimes bordering on magic. Even Nori, his most worldly brother, was often taken aback by Bilbo’s feats. 

“Later, Ori. I’ll show you later.” Bilbo promised to the astonished young dwarf. The poor youngster was too easily impressed. “You too, Nori.” He added when he noticed the thief trailing his hand across the shield curiously, smiling at the sparks playing across his fingers.

Nori wiped the smile out of his face when the Company’s eyes turned to him. The thief sent a terse acknowledgement to Bilbo and slinked away. He hated to be a centre of attention. It wasn’t good for his health, as he learnt years ago. 

_Your second._ A stray thought flashed through his mind and Bilbo raised his eyebrow. It complicated things a bit. Nori was the second strongest guide, bonded to Thorin’s cousin and the captain of the guard. Nori’s chosen profession was a deterrent, but Bilbo was determined to have him lead the support centre as soon as the circumstances allowed it. His younger brother was ranked the third amongst them, although he was mostly untrained, and he was Fíli’s guide. Fíli, as in Thorin’s heir. It was bound to have some political ramifications when they managed to win back Erebor. _Grr. Politics._ Bilbo shuddered and put his token away, back inside his pocket.

“Let’s go,” the hobbit said and stepped on the road. The shortest way through Thranduil’s forest was thankfully carefully maintained by the elves, so it wasn’t in such a state of disrepair like the bridge they used to flee the orcs. For Thorin’s peace of mind, the path Bilbo chose after he found their location on the map they liberated from Imladris, was quite a distance away from the palace and they shouldn’t draw undue attention from the elves to their Company. The sooner they would get out of Thranduil’s lands, the better. Thorin’s words. And from the snippets of information Bilbo managed to overhear during the journey, he wouldn’t enjoy meeting the stand-offish elf king anyway. He was worse than Elrond, who was condescending and superior enough to rub him wrong. Maybe it wasn’t fair of Bilbo to paint all elves with the same brush, but… It was hard not to when one spent so much time in the company of dwarrow. 

“Why don’t you listen to me, for once,” Thorin complained, as he caught up to his guide.

“Maybe because I know my limits better than you.” Bilbo retorted tartly. “I understand that my grandmother threatened you with bodily harm if anything happens to me, but I’m not a fragile little flower in the need of constant care and attention. I’m tougher than I look and I’m sure you’ve noticed it in the last weeks. So, please, sentinel mine, stop babying me.”

“Bilbo. Bilbo. What should I do with you?” Thorin sighed out his guide’s name in exasperation. The hobbit’s contrary nature was going to drive him to an early grave. The hobbit just smirked suggestively instead of answering him and Thorin blushed at the memories it evoked. His hobbit was an unrepentant tease in addition to his fiery nature. 

“Quiet.” Thorin glared at his snickering companions and forced them to shut up. It was quite satisfying, this little victory, in the face of Bilbo’s obstinacy. 

Bilbo got serious. “I didn’t make the shield on the whim. It has a purpose. I’m worried about the things that Gandalf hinted before he took a leave of our Company.” Nori and Ori nodded, completely in agreement with Bilbo’s decision. They too sensed creepy and suffocating darkness emanating from the place located in the south part of the forest. It was making them wary to enter the woods before Bilbo took matters in his hands and built a barrier between the unsavoury influences and them.

Of course, the hobbit failed to mention his companions a strange eagerness of the ring in his possession, when they got near Mirkwood. Or the existence of the ring at all. He was starting to regret he didn’t throw it at Gandalf before the wizard left them. The bothersome trinket was trying on his last nerve. The difficulty laid in the necessity of containing the ring’s influence and at the same time maintaining the barrier around the Company while taking into account the mostly untrained guides and their undisciplined abilities interacting with the shield. A complicated mess, as his grandmother would say.

Bilbo eyed the road, vanishing in the distance amongst the trees, dubiously and prayed the shield would hold back the darkness. “Stop dawdling. The sooner we get in, the sooner we get out.” He pushed for the Company to continue and bravely stepped on the road. 

Thorin hurried after his guide and entered the forest. A strange silence warned him about predators lurking in the shadows. Sharpening his sight, he noticed what looked like spider webs twinning amongst the leaves. He caught an excited chittering from above and went on alert. “Kíli, the trees.”

Young archer glanced around and hissed, quickly withdrawing his bow. “Spiders.”

A large eight-legged insect dropped from a branch, blocking their way. Another spider closed the path out of the forest and both of them attacked simultaneously, trying to get to the Company. Bilbo winced, as they bounced from the shield. Violent vibrations resonated through his body, and the shield flashed with blue. It only managed to infuriate the spiders.

“What are you waiting for? Kill them.” Bilbo shouted, barely holding his own against the vicious attack. The dwarrow attacked with everything they had while trying to stay inside Bilbo’s shield. The spiders nimbly avoided first weapons, thrown at them, before finally, Kíli managed to strike true and kill one of them. Shortly after, the second spider fell to Dwalin’s throwing axes. 

“Welcome to Mirkwood,” Bilbo said dryly. “Come for the scenery, get killed by spiders.”

The relieved laughter at the hobbit’s brevity rang through the trees, as the adrenaline faded from dwarrow and they proceeded to make their way deeper inside Thranduil’s realm.


	15. Part 15

Bilbo tilted his head and his ears twitched adorably, as he caught something lurking not too far away from them. Fortunately, it wasn’t a spider. They were several days away from exiting the forest, and he was mightily getting sick of seeing nothing but the dark trees surrounding them and praying no more spiders were following them. The hobbit closed his eyes feeling for a specific signature. Someone very curious was following them. 

_Several someones. A couple of them are uncomfortably close to us._ He corrected himself and frowned. The hobbit wasn’t sure at first, it was a new presence, since the feel of it was familiar, but not. It was strange – a feeling of age and guide gifts mingled together in some incomprehensible mixture. Bilbo narrowed his eyes at the group of trees several feet away behind them and for a split of a second, he saw a pair of elves – a male and a female – staring at their group intently.

“Elves,” Bilbo muttered to no one in particular and alarmed the Company. Deep in the hostile territory, they couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. 

“Where are they hiding?” Thorin asked, his head swivelling in several directions, trying to pinpoint their pointy-eared shadows. He couldn’t see anyone following them, but he believed in his guide’s abilities. If Bilbo said the elves were near, then they were there. End of discussion.

Not seeing anyone, Thorin called for his fellow sentinels. “Dwalin. Fíli. Kíli. Find them.”

* * *

“They’ve noticed us, my prince.” The redhead elleth said quietly and shifted deeper into the shadows. Their guide alerted dwarrow to their presence, and it caused their sentinels to search frantically for them. “Shouldn’t I call the rest of the patrol to help us apprehend them?”

Legolas shrugged dispassionately and remained standing in the same place, relying on the cover the trees provided, even against the sharp sight of dwarrow sentinels. “Let them go. As much as it pains me to admit it, they aren’t trespassing. Their leader is wise. He chose the only path through our forest that is open to anyone who wishes to cross it, no matter their race and stature. I’m sure my father won’t mind this point of view since they are staying in the respectful distance from the palace. If they keep to the path they are currently on, I don’t see any reason to apprehend them. And we have more serious problems demanding our attention than a group of dwarrow wandering on the Old Road.”

“Aren’t you curious about their intentions?” Tauriel asked, acquiescing wordlessly to her prince’s reasoning.

“Not really. If I had to take a guess… I’ll bet my favourite bow they are going to scout the mountain.” The elf prince cocked his head. “I’m more interested in the dwarf’s guide – the Pereniath. What is a Child of the West doing amongst them is very strange. From what I understand, they aren’t that fond of leaving their homeland. The question is… Why had one of them traipsed half of the continent in the company of dwarrow.”

The elleth was thinking about the prince’s words when she sensed something poking at her shields. She snapped her head up staring at the hobbit in wonder. “You are right, my prince. The Pereniath. He is a strong guide. The strongest I’ve ever encountered. Certainly stronger than me. And I have a feeling even any of Esgaroth’s gifted don’t hold a candle to his gifts.” She whispered, surprise colouring her voice. “Look, how they follow his lead.”

“You think the Pereniath is an alpha guide.” Legolas mused out loud. “That makes sense. He would be compelled to follow his bonded sentinel to the ends of Arda. And if Oakenshield is the sentinel bonded to him… Hmm. That changes a few things. Tauriel, we ride for the palace. We have to inform my father about the latest developments.” 

* * *

“They are leaving,” Bilbo informed others and relaxed gradually, when he realized the elves were riding away, their curiosity sated for the moment. His dwarrow came down from the alert shortly after, thankful for their good luck. They weren’t very eager to tangle up with elves. It would be a mess of epic proportions and they didn’t have time for it.

Suddenly, a wave of psionic energy rolled over them like a tsunami, leaving everyone flattened on the ground. Bilbo whined piteously, massaging his temples. The headache, the event caused him, was terrible. He had never experienced anything like that. 

“What the fuck was that?” Thorin snarled, standing up gingerly, and helping Bilbo to get back on his feet. His bond with his guide was strained and it was making him wary.

Bilbo closed his eyes and stretched his empathy to the south towards a rapidly diminishing black spot he previously avoided like a plague to get a better idea of what was happening. “Oh. They did it.” He exhaled in surprise. “I thought it would take them longer to deal with it.”

“Did what?” Thorin asked impatiently, his instincts on the high alert with everyone, and most importantly his guide, still incapacitated by the blast.

“Just some spring cleaning.” The hobbit replied. He frowned when he sensed the darkness fleeing towards the impenetrable stronghold of evil that was Mordor. _So, it wasn’t defeated. Just driven away. I don’t like it. The White Council was supposed to get rid of the necromancer residing in the dark fortress. Somehow, I don’t think it was that easy. And the ring. Its eagerness to join the darkness is disturbing. Thank Yavanna, I was able to shield it against broadcasting our position. I don’t want to imagine what would have happened if the necromancer seized the ring._

“Bilbo? Are you listening?” His sentinel’s voice, brimming with impatience, penetrated his heavy thoughts. 

The hobbit shook his head and patted the sentinel’s hand distractedly. “Don’t worry about it, Thorin.”

“I hear water flowing. That way. A river perhaps?” Kíli announced, pointing into the darkness, as he bounded to his uncle and his hobbit guide.

Grateful for a reprieve, Bilbo conjured up Elrond’s map out of somewhere and studied it for a few moments. “Celduín. Has to be.” He murmured to the fascinated dwarrow. Making a decision, he snapped the map close and stashed it away in one smooth twist of his hand. “When we reach the river, we’ll have to turn to the north and follow the river. It should take us directly to Long Lake and Esgaroth. Erebor is further in the north, about a day on foot from the human city.”

“Well-thought plan.” Dwalin praised Thorin’s One. The shouts of agreement, coming from everyone, made Bilbo proud of his little contribution to the quest. 

“I concur,” Thorin said belatedly. “The human city would be ideal for re-stocking our supplies. We are getting low on food and some medicines. Glóin, how much money do we have left?”

The red-haired loud dwarf wasn’t one of Bilbo’s favourites, but he was best at what he was doing, and that was diligently watching the spending. “By my estimate, we should have enough to pay for a few nights in an inn with comfortable beds for everyone and buying enough food to last us the entire winter. And yes, Bilbo, I took into account the hobbit dietary requirements.”

“That’s great news.” Thorin was relieved. The last leg of their journey was most critical. They had mostly managed to avoid attracting unnecessary attention from elves and with a bit of luck, they would get to the human town without meeting any more of the pointy-eared menaces. Ensuring the support from humans, or at least their agreement not to involve themselves in their business, was Thorin’s next priority. He just had to find a way to accomplish it without offending anyone. _Grr. Diplomacy._ The dwarf sentinel hated it. _Where is Dís, when I need her? Right. In Ered Luin making sure the settlement survives until they secure the mountain._

“I was right. I was right. The forest ends behind the next turn and there is a river.” Kíli shouted, startling everyone with his exuberance.

“Finally,” Bilbo said and quickened his step. The forest was nice and all, but after weeks of looking at the same dark trees, the hobbit welcomed the change of scenery. Bilbo turned his face towards the sun, soaking up the warmth. He missed it dearly. 

One by one the dwarrow stumbled out of the Mirkwood, gathering on the river bank. The hobbit wavered, as he released the power shielding the Company from the unsavoury influence of the evil rooted in the elf land. 

“All right there, Bilbo?” Nori slid up to him, eying him critically.

The hobbit smiled tiredly and waved the thief’s concern away. “Never better, Nori. Never better.”


	16. Part 16

The Company gladly left the last of the Thranduil’s forest behind them. A path opened up to them and the sentinels in their group could see clearly the smoking chimneys in the distance, showing the way to Esgaroth. The valley was beautiful and Bilbo appreciated the change of the scenery after days of staring at the same monotonous surroundings of trees and nothing more than trees and a dusty road. 

The hobbit pouted. He was dusty and cranky, and missed the intimacy of the bonding with his sentinel. The river was too fast-flowing to bathe and privacy was non-existent for the foreseeable future. Bilbo wished dearly they were already in the human town, so he could indulge in a little bit of luxury before they went after the dragon. He guessed it shouldn’t take much longer, as Esgaroth was on the other side of the lake, further in the north, located under the shadow of the Lonely Mountain.

“There is it. The port for the human boats.” Thorin pointed to the shore. It was a shabbily looking structure, made entirely of wood, but in slightly better condition than the bridge through the Old Ford. 

Bilbo stared at it dubiously. “Are you sure the pier will last under our weight?” 

“The humans wouldn’t let one of their main sources of income flounder. At least, according to Daín.” Squinting in the distance, Thorin frowned. “Why are Mirkwood elves at the pier?”

“Can’t we get around them?” Bilbo demanded to know. He felt like the elves, especially one in the middle sitting on a deer, had something underhanded in mind. 

Thorin shook his head. “No. They are blocking all paths to the north. We would have to return back to the forest or cross the river to avoid them. And we are out of time. Better to confront them now, when we are in the human lands. There isn’t much they could do to hinder us if they don’t wish to court a diplomatic incident. I see an Esgaroth’s boat in the middle of the lake. The crew had to notice the elves and us, because they had changed their course, and are heading in our direction.”

“Thorin Oakenshield. What brings your miserable hide back to the east?” The pompous elf called out rudely. 

“Thranduil.” Thorin spat the elf’s name in the same tone with a layer of evident dislike to top it off. The Mirkwood’s king was the last elf he expected to encounter outside of the forest. It was known the elf hated to leave the seat of his power, preferring his children to take the necessary ambassadorial duties. “Welcoming as ever.”

The kind swiftly came down from his deer and looked down his nose at the impoverished dwarf prince. “You get only what you deserve. If you find a fault in that, deal with it.”

Thorin clenched his fists, as he fairly vibrated with anger. It wasn’t enough the arrogant sod refused to help them evacuate the mountain when the dragon attacked, but he was gleefully rubbing salt in the wounds. “Your grievances were noted and we were in a process of resolving the issues concerning those gems when the dragon attacked. It wasn’t a reason to refuse to aid my people fleeing Erebor.”

“Ah. And we are getting to the heart of the matter. Erebor. You are going to try to take back the mountain” Thranduil glared at the dwarf when he realized the likely reason for his presence back in the vicinity of the Lonely Mountain. “Didn’t the greed of your forefathers cause enough grief?”

“King Thranduil.” A dangerous voice penetrated the tense stand-off, catching all of them off guard, as a human jumped out of a boat on the shore. The floating vessel had to have some hidden capacities because the humans got there much quicker than Thorin estimated. 

_Correction. Human sentinel._ Thorin realized when the man got between the elf king and him. The man had to be someone with a high position because his crew deferred to him and stood beside him, shielding them from the elves.

“You are a month early for the annual trade-market.” The human said, not a bit intimidated by Thranduil’s visibly armed entourage. 

The elf sniffed haughtily and replied. “I’m quite aware of it, Bard. I entrusted my youngest son with the next shipment of goods.”

“Well. I don’t see Legolas, nor Tauriel. That tells me, you aren’t here for trading.” The man assessed the situation. “I’m going to be very blunt. You entered my territory armed, Thranduil, with an obvious intent to harm people under my protection. I have to ask you to return back to your forest you so dearly prefer and send your son to clear up this insult with me as soon as possible.”

“Are you threatening me over some dwarrow?” The king asked silkily, his hand inching towards his sword.

“They are not just some dwarrow, as you put it. Even a blind person can see they have gifted pairs amongst them.” Bard objected immediately. “And to quote your own words. Let the humans take care of themselves and their territory. They have their gifted to help them and don’t need us.”

“Damned sentinels.” Thranduil cursed under his breath. He hated them and their abilities. It gave them an unfair advantage over non-gifted. And guides… They were the worst. Fortunately, there wasn’t any elf with those abilities found in his kingdom. The king stared mutely at the group of dwarrow, and finally noticed what he was missing. Putting his nose in the air, he hopped on his deer’s back and without another word left. 

“And what is a group of dwarrow doing here?” The sentinel inquired, as soon as the odious elf vanished in the trees. He hated dealing with him, greatly preferring his more personable son.

“And hobbit.” Bilbo peeped out, darting from behind Thorin to the forefront. Generally, the guides were welcomed everywhere, no matter their race. And apparently, the man had strong protective instincts towards the guides if he was willing to stand against Thranduil for their sake. Bilbo noticed the human sentinel positioned himself in such a way he shielded him from the king’s gaze. 

“Bilbo!” Thorin hissed, trying to pull his resisting guide back. 

“Peace, Prince Thorin.” The man lifted his hands in a sign of surrender. The little guide was clearly bonded to the dwarf and judging by their current interactions he didn’t need any help in protecting himself.

The hobbit bowed and asked politely. “We require transport to Esgaroth, Master Bard. I would like to inquire if you have a place on your ship for us.”

The man sighed, hoping he wasn’t letting trouble inside his territory. “Are you able to pay?”

Bilbo smirked. “I’m sure we’ll come to an agreement.”

* * *

The dinner in Bard’s home was one of the most uncomfortable and tense occasions, Bilbo had ever been a part of. It was worse than welcoming Lobelia, her husband and her spawn in his home with the politeness befitting of the Master of Bag End. The hobbit had to admit that even Imladris’s elves were more welcoming and that was saying something when one took into consideration hostile relations between elves and dwarrow. 

The human sentinel was glaring at them suspiciously. His older daughter and young son were clearly taking their cues from him and their agitation was almost palpable. In turn, that was causing dwarrow sentinels to stay alert and cautious of their hosts, instead of enjoying their meal. Why hadn’t Bard just sent them to one of Esgaroth’s inns was a mystery. Although, when Bilbo thought about it, it was probably because the town’s security was his domain and he wanted to keep a closer eye at them. 

“It is said that the dwarrow were run out of mountain because there weren’t any gifted pairs amongst them. That the dragon came because their greed prevented their gifted to wake up and take a stand. Is that true, Mr. Thorin?” Tilda chirped her question out of nowhere, almost making the dwarf king choke on the food in his mouth. 

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at his sentinel, waiting for his answer. He was curious about what Thorin would tell the little girl. Her inquiries were very pointed. Too pointed for a child of her age. He let out a tendril of power to assess the girl and startled. 

She felt like she belonged, Bilbo realized. Cutting his eyes at Kíli, the hobbit understood. Bard’s daughter was Kíli’s match. He wasn’t sure how he knew it when the girl was still unaware of her own potential, but it was there. A seed of bond in both of them – the human girl and the young dwarf – waiting for an opportunity to bloom into something beautiful.

Thorin put down the cutlery very carefully and took a deep breath. It was stunning to realize how, in just a few generations without their presence in Erebor, the facts were twisted and the rumours spread. The human child was earnestly waiting for the answer to her question, while her father and siblings just sat in silent resignation. It seemed Bard’s youngest was fond of asking difficult questions. 

“The dwarrow had always had gifted pairs amongst them since ever Mahal’s first children were granted their lives.” He started explaining, his face pulled tight, as the memories of Smaug’s arrival tried to break out of the tight vault he shuffled them, so he was able to function as the leader of Durin’s folk. “And Erebor wasn’t an exception. The sentinels and their guides were lost amongst the first, and it was only because of their sacrifice that my people were able to flee before we were all scorched by the dragon’s wrath.”

Tilda frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“What about you and your kin?” Bard asked almost rudely with a raised eyebrow. “If you had lost every gifted in that attack, it doesn’t explain you and others under your lead.”

Thorin cringed. “We awakened later, on our way to the west. Our circumstances were so fraught and dangerous, the dwarrow sentinels and guides woke en masse. It was a mess of epic proportions because most of us were too young and unprepared to bear the responsibility thrust upon us so suddenly. Fortunately, we didn’t lose anyone, mostly because of the assistance rendered by human gifted.” And he added acidly after a moment. “We lived. No thanks to Thranduil.”

“Fine. I can understand your point of view. Even your misgivings, concerning the elves. But for Valar’s sake, why do you think it’s a good idea to go and poke a sleeping dragon.”

“My dwarrow are dying out in our settlement in Ered Luin. The situation is unsustainable. Because of the internal dwarf politics, we have no other recourse but to try for our Halls in the Erebor.”

“Living in the shadow of a dragon isn’t making anything easier, no matter what you think, Thorin Oakenshield.” Bard snapped out angrily. “Or did you perhaps fail to notice a fairly large amount of gifted in my city? If yes, I have to ask…. Are you blind?” The man’s face fell and he continued more sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear about the difficulties you are facing.” 

Bard contemplated dwarrow’s situation in silence. If it was so dire, dwarrow weren’t going to abandon their quest, only because he asked nicely. He discarded that train of thought immediately and instead focused on something else. “My grandfather, the last lord of Dale, was lost in the fight against the dragon. My father was only a child when he witnessed his death. He was one of the lucky ones who escaped the dragon’s wrath. Years later, he returned and built up this town.”

“Come with me,” Bard said and stood up, ignoring the incredulous faces of his older children when they realized where he was going with that story. The man unlocked an unassuming door and entered. His guests followed him inside and stopped abruptly, staring wide-eyed at the spectacle in front of them. In the place of honour, in the middle of the room, encased in a glass case was a famed black arrow. “Girion was successful in fending off the dragon, using the dwarf-made black arrows, before he succumbed to his own injuries. He entreated my father to take the last black arrow and run.”

Thorin didn’t dare to take his eyes from the impossibility in front of him. A genuine black arrow. The secret of making them was lost together with Erebor. And now, he found out the humans were in possession of the only weapon effective against the dragon. “What do you want for the arrow?”

The human sentinel raised an eyebrow and rejected the dwarf’s offer out of hand and ended the debate before it started. “It’s not for sale. The arrow is my inheritance and the only protection I can offer to my people.”


	17. Part 17

Bilbo hated the lack of privacy in the camp they built up in the mountain. Staying in Esgaroth in a comfortable bed in the safety found in Thorin’s arms, spoiled him rotten. He had a really hard time settling for chaste touches in the stolen moments of privacy while they waited for Durin’s day to arrive. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be long before the secret entrance showed itself.

The sunset and the plateau, where they were staying, was plunged into the darkness. The anticipation rose to the unbearable level. Thorin was clutching his father’s key, looking around wildly and searching for the key-hole.

“Wait for it.” The hobbit muttered, as the moon rose and illuminated their surroundings. Bilbo’s sentinel immediately zeroed on the small, almost invisible, fissure in otherwise smooth stone. The dimensions were a perfect fit for the key in Thorin’s hand. The dwarf didn’t hesitate and inserted the key into the hole. The mountain groaned and the slab of stone fell aside, revealing a secret entrance. 

“One obstacle down,” Thorin remarked and turned to his guide, resting his forehead on the hobbit. His instincts were screaming at him not to let Bilbo out of his sight. He smothered the fear, using the years of practice ignoring his instincts, and whispered last instructions to his guide. “In and out. Just like we planned. Quick and easy. No unnecessary stops and no playing hero. And please, Bilbo, return to me.”

The hobbit took a deep breath, stealing a kiss from his sentinel’s lips, and stepped aside. “I promise, Thorin. I’ll always return back to you.”

With a sigh, the dwarf let him go, staring forlornly after him, until Bilbo’s silhouette was swallowed in the darkness.

“Ok. I can do this.” Bilbo muttered to himself, while he blindly stumbled on his way inside that damn mountain. He didn’t have any idea where he was going. He was following the path where his empathy was leading him – deeper and deeper in the mountain, directly to an enormous mass of sleepy feelings that was probably denoting the dragon’s nest. With a little luck, the pest was sleeping soundly on the piles of his ill-gotten treasure. 

Bilbo didn’t like his sentinel had to be restrained for him to be allowed to enter the mountain. His sentinel was still under the impression he was a fragile sheltered little thing. He left that person back in the Shire, together with his common sense, after he signed up for this adventure. The hobbit was moving soundlessly, only a broken layer of dust on the ground showing the way he went. 

The entire mountain was as silent as a tomb. Bilbo cringed at the noise his footsteps made, praying ardently for the dragon to continue sleeping. The cobwebs covering the broken columns and eerie breeze blowing through the various cracks in the walls just added to the hobbit’s rising unease. And Thorin’s agitation wasn’t helping his mindset. Through their bond he sensed his sentinel was impatiently pacing in front of the hidden door, alternatively glaring at the closed entrance and his unrepentant Company.

 _I shouldn’t be here._ The hobbit guide looked around and frowned. That damned ring wormed its way out of its cage once again and tried to plant doubts inside his mind. He wrestled the wretched thing back under his control and slammed the cage shut, investing most of his power into containing it. He couldn’t afford to be distracted in such a crucial moment. The dwarrow were waiting for him and he wasn’t going to disappoint them by getting himself killed by his own carelessness. 

In what appeared to be no time, Bilbo stood in front of an intimidating and heavily ornamented gate leading to the treasury. Fortunately, it was slightly ajar, so he didn’t have to think up a solution for that. Deep breathing of a sleeping beast was the only thing cutting sharply through the silence. 

Bilbo was determined to continue against all odds. He had come so far already, and he was only a hairbreadth away from achieving his goal. Taking a deep breath and centring on his sentinel’s unwavering strength, the hobbit boldly entered the treasury. He stopped abruptly, gaping at the piles of gold and precious gems, the mithril and jewellery, and the enormous dragon sprawled on top of it all. 

He took in everything, searching for some kind of an opening. The malevolent shine of the dragon’s body was reflected on the numerous coins, lending the treasury a sinister feel. Smaug twitched and Bilbo quickly took a step back. His eyes were drawn to the black blemish and missing scales on the dragon’s chest. It seemed Bard’s bragging was based on the facts. 

* * *

“I have some good news.” Bilbo blurted out breathlessly, as soon as he ran out of the secret entrance. His dwarrow sat up and started to pay him attention. “Ok. Firstly, the dragon is still sleeping.” 

The dwarrow cheered at the news. Thorin was relieved to hear it. He was on the edge, constantly snapping at everyone, while his guide was in the danger. It grated against his instincts to let Bilbo enter the dragon’s lair without his protection. Not that his guide was helpless. His formidable gifts were more than enough to protect him against his foes. But the dragon was an entirely other matter. The dwarf sentinel was incessantly plagued by the vivid memories of the last time he encountered the beast.

“Esgaroth’s sentinel was right. The dragon has a weakness.” Bilbo revealed, barely containing his giddiness with the news he was sharing with dwarrow.

Thorin perked up. “What is it?” 

Bilbo closed his eyes, recalling a memory of the great beast. “He is sleeping in what I presume is the treasury. The gold and precious jewels are glinting too much to sneak in unobtrusively. While the dragon sleeps, he is sprawled in the middle of the room facing the entrance, as if he was guarding his nest even in his sleep. On the left side of his chest, there is a black wound, no bigger than a coin. If everything, what Bard was telling us, is true, then the wound was poisoned by the black arrow. Just one good shot to the wound to penetrate Smaug’s hide deeper and the poison should directly hit the dragon’s heart.”

“Kíli.” Bilbo’s sentinel called out, plans whirling wildly inside his mind. 

“Yes, uncle.” The young dwarf straightened under Thorin’s weighty gaze, the anticipation swirling under his skin. He was getting an inkling of what was expected of him and it sent shivers up and down his spine.

“You are an archer. The best one of Ered Luin, if I remember correctly.” The older dwarf started thoughtfully, weighing the risks and benefits of laying such an enormous responsibility on the youngest dwarf’s shoulders.

“Yes, uncle?” Kíli agreed hesitantly.

Thorin nodded decisively and ordered. “Your weapon speciality is going to be boon for us. I want you to work with my guide to get yourself ready for making a decisive shot.” His nephew nodded. Bilbo raised an eyebrow inquiringly and dragged Kíli aside to speak with him. “According to my guide, the dragon is still undisturbed in his sleep. We are going to operate under this assumption. We’ll go in, secure the treasury and make room for Kíli to shoot. If the dragon is awake, we’ll try to distract him, but hopefully, it won’t be needed.”

“I thought only a black arrow can penetrate the dragon’s hide.” Ori peeped out from behind Nori. 

“Right,” Bilbo smirked and withdrew something heavy out of his pack. “One black arrow. You are all welcome.”

“How did you get it? Bard refused to part with it.” Kíli asked while he snatched the arrow out of Bilbo’s hands, inspecting it carefully for any damage. It was in the pristine condition. No sign of rust or any imperfection, as far as he could see. The arrow was slightly heavier in the comparison to his usual munition, but shooting with it should be doable. 

“Hmm. I borrowed it from Esgaroth.” Bilbo admitted, blushing under the smirking faces of his dwarrow. “With Nori’s help, of course.”

“Nori!” The twin voices of his eldest brother and his sentinel tried to reprimand him. The thief just shrugged and expertly ignored the lectures from both of them. He did as the future consort of his king bid him and he wasn’t ashamed of it. 

“Let him be,” Bilbo said, warning clear in his voice. He wasn’t going to let others berate Nori for something he insisted had to be done. “He was instrumental in getting that arrow from Bard’s hands. I like having someone in the Company with the skills and mindset to gain us such an enormous advantage against our next foe.”

Chastised Dori and Dwalin hung their heads and muttered apologies to the surprised thief. It didn’t happen to him often that someone stood up for him against the formidable duo. “Thank you, Bilbo,” Nori said heartfeltly.


	18. Part 18

The day they had chosen to make the attempt at dealing with the dragon once for all had come, and of course, Gandalf was still missing, much to Bilbo’s displeasure. Thorin decided not to wait any longer for the wizard and try his luck. He had his hearing tuned to the dragon day and night and noticed worryingly shifting patterns in his breathing and smell. He was on the verge of waking up hungry with Esgaroth full of ignorant people directly under his nose. Hopefully, Bard would evacuate the town before it was too late. The human sentinel was strong enough to notice changing patterns in the dragon’s sleep.

The Company’s plan, roughly something like getting in and killing the dragon as quickly as possible, depended on Smaug’s unconsciousness. Thorin didn’t like that Bilbo was going back inside the mountain and putting himself in grave danger if they managed to wake the dragon. 

Everyone knew their role in the upcoming ambush, and contingencies for various scenarios if the dragon was awakened. Bilbo vehemently insisted on the thorough preparations. Thorin relented and devised the various strategies with Dwalin and his nephews. The hobbit owed Bard for the black arrow he liberated from his home, though he suspected the man was aware of it and he certainly wasn’t going to repay it by unleashing the dragon on the Esgaroth and prove Bard right.

The dwarrow were armed to their teeth with every bladed weapon imaginable and spent several days helping Kíli to train shooting with the black arrow. Bilbo’s task was more delicate than that. He spent most of his time constructing a temporary bond with the young sentinel in the sectioned place of his mind. It was exhausting work because he noticed Kíli formed some kind of fledgeling connection with Tilda, Bard’s youngest and budding guide, so he had to protect it as well as his bond with Thorin. That showed him they were very compatible and would be probably bonding as soon as the girl was of the appropriate age, and they were still alive for it and not burnt to a crisp by the enraged dragon. The worries for the future, as Bilbo waved it away. 

Thorin gathered the entire company in front of the secret gate and made a speech. The pains of a leader to be motivating for others to follow him to certain death. “The bravest of dwarrow and hobbits, my friends. The day has come when we are going to take our home back from the dreaded enemy clothed in the flames and scales. Smaug, the dragon who shamelessly occupies Erebor, is going to meet his end on our blades. I have only one more thing to say to you. Don’t die. Baruk Khazâd! Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!”

The dwarrow yelled their answer to Thorin’s call into arms in Khuzdul and followed their leader into the unknown dangers inside the Mountain. The brightness and fervour Thorin’s speech brought up in them fell aside as soon as they stumbled upon the remains of the dragon’s victims. The poor soul was the greatest example of the tragedy of Erebor’s past. He was left lying where he died with no one around to properly bury him. The company stepped aside carefully around the unfortunate unnamed dwarf, bowing somberly and vowing to make the proper arrangements as soon as the mountain was secure. 

Bilbo frowned as he ducked in after his sentinel. He didn’t realize the mountain was a complicated mess of twisting paths and unexpected shortcuts, and he was completely lost after several turns. Thorin had to choose a different path to the treasury because he sure didn’t find any remains on his way to poke around the dragon’s nest. 

The gloominess of the things to come was sitting badly with the Company. Poor Kíli was beside himself trying to stay calm. Bilbo covertly sent a wave of confidence by the way of their temporary link. The young dwarf visibly perked up when it hit him and nodded gratefully in his direction. Kíli was receptive, fortunately, to his guidance, perhaps because his perfect guide was still years away from fully awakening. 

It was strange how the group of dwarrow walked through the passages soundlessly, in contrast to their rude and loud behaviour when they invited themselves into his smial at the beginning of their journey. Bilbo pouted when he realized it was their way to weed out the unacceptable people, as dwarrow were hard on trust. And with cause, when one just took a look at their history full of strife and suffering.

Bilbo winced when he sensed they were near the treasury, perhaps only a few turns away, if he was guessing correctly. Or nearer, when the suddenly appearing entrance almost smacked him in the face. “How, for Mahal’s sake, did we get here?” He asked, assessing Thorin suspiciously. “I thought you can’t navigate to save your life.” 

Thorin flushed and quickly spoke to refute his guide’s last statement. “I might… and I stress might… have a little difficulty reading maps but that doesn’t translate in any manner into underground navigation. What leader would I be if I couldn’t understand the stone songs of my people? It’s a basic skill, every dwarfling learns in early childhood.”

“Fine. I believe you.” Bilbo sighed and shook his head in resignation. Dwarrow and their secrets. He took a step towards the treasury, intent on making sure the dragon was still asleep and they could proceed with their plan unimpeded.

“Where do you think you are going?” Thorin whispered harshly and threw himself between the hobbit and the slightly open gates. There was no way he was letting Bilbo inside to face Smaug without him to guard his back. 

“What do you think? I’m going inside to take another look at the dragon.” Bilbo said tartly, ducked under Thorin’s arm and darted inside the treasury. 

Bilbo halted abruptly, taking cover in the shadows, and swiftly looked around. Erebor’s treasury was located in an enormous cavern. Heaps of gold, silver and rare mithril were thrown haphazardly all around. Their blinding shine was making the hobbit nauseous. How had he missed it the first time was a mystery, he wasn’t going to dwell upon right now. Especially when a clinking of coins falling to the ground alerted him, something was terribly wrong.

The hobbit turned around and with growing horror, he saw as the dragon cracked his eyes open and yawned. “I smell you, thief. Your scent is steeped in the fresh stench dwarrow. You can’t hide from me. Show yourself. I, Smaug, demand it.”

And just like that all of their hopes for quick and clean resolution to the dragon problem were dashed. Smaug was awake. The hobbit guide shoved his fear behind his mental shields and locked it away in the farthest corner of his mind. He ignored Thorin furiously shaking his head in refusal and came out of the shadows right under the dragon’s golden gaze. 

“And who you are, little thief?” Smaug asked curiously, finally noticing a short male, shorter than even dwarrow, standing determinedly before him. “Not a dwarf, that’s clear, even if you stink of them. Not an elf, nor human. What a curious creature you are. Tell me, thief, just who you are.”

Bilbo raised his chin in defiance and channelled his most obnoxious cousin’s attitude. “How dare you call me a thief. I am a hobbit of great standing. I have no need to take your trinkets. And I’ve never stolen anything in my life. I demand an apology.”

Thorin almost got a heart-attack at listening to the cheeky words of his guide. When they got out of there, he was going to wring Bilbo’s neck. No one in their right mind dared to demand anything of a dragon.

Smaug sniffed curiously at the little nuisance and sneezed when he recognized the smell. He growled out. “Guide. You are a guide. What are you doing in my nest, little guide? So far away from any of your kind?”

The hobbit straightened under the dragon’s heavy gaze. He wasn’t going to be afraid of the overgrown lizard with delusions of grandeur and manners worse than Sackville-Bagginses. His cousin Lobelia was far more dangerous and unpredictable than one dragon sleeping for decades, hidden in the remote mountain on the far east. “What makes you think, I’m far away from my brethren?” Bilbo asked coyly, trying to divert Smaug’s attention, when he noticed his companions sneaking inside the treasury, finding refuge in various crooks and crannies, as they spread through the vast cavern. 

Smaug shifted, further disturbing his nest, suspicious growing inside him. The coins rolled on the ground in every direction, as he straightened to his full height, spreading his wings in an attempt to shake off the lingering sleepiness. He turned his head unerringly in the direction of places where Bilbo’s dwarrow hid and thundered angrily. “Dwarf scum. You’ve returned.”

* * *

 _Fine. This may be a problem._ Bilbo admitted dryly, as he ducked behind a statue of some portly dwarf. Fortunately, its girth, reminiscing of a hobbit shape, concealed him nicely from Smaug’s gaze. Taking a deep breath, he peeked out from behind the statute to determine how fucked they were. 

_Very._ The answer to his own question flashed through the hobbit’s mind, as the dragon reared back and coughed out a stream of fire at the dwarrow hiding places. At the last possible moment, his dwarrow scattered chaotically, trying not to stay at the same place very long and invite the dragon’s wrath on their heads. 

The smell of burning dust was revolting. But at least it wasn’t something worse, like the smell of burnt flesh. The dwarrow were lucky so far and managed to avoid the worst, meaning the dragon fire. He had to do something before their luck ran out and ended as a pile of ash amongst the glittering trinkets in the dragon’s nest. 

_I’ve completely lost my mind. Yavanna, help me._ Bilbo prayed as he came to the unfortunate conclusion he was going to play bait. Others were too far away to make an impact on the dragon and Kíli wasn’t in any position to take a shot. Hopefully, Thorin wouldn’t kill him for it. The hobbit stealthily slipped from his hiding place, ran between Smaug’s sharp talons and grabbed some shiny gem from the nearest pile of shiny gems. “Hey there, Smaug. Look, what I’ve found.” And he waved the gem, trying to distract the dragon.

“Bilbo? What are you doing?” Thorin shouted harshly from the other side of the treasury, as he swallowed down the fear caused by his guide’s recklessness. And uncanny luck. When he focused his sight on the hobbit, Thorin paled. He recognized the gem in Bilbo’s fist as the Arkenstone. Only his guide was liable to find the most sought after royal jewel by accident.

Smaug’s head swivelled towards the nuisance at his feet. “Do you know what you are holding in your hands, little guide? No? Let me enlighten you. It’s the Arkenstone.”

The dwarrow hissed when the sacred name fell from the dragon’s mouth tauntingly. Bilbo’s mouth dropped open in shock before he shrugged it away. It was only a mathom. A trinket with no real value for him, except for using it as a distraction. “Come and get it.” He taunted.

“Return the stone. At once.” Smaug ordered imperiously. One of his forelegs moved and blocked Bilbo’s escape routes, trapping him face-to-face with the beast.

Bilbo swallowed down his rising fear and snapped out. “No.”

The dragon reared back at the hobbit’s forceful answer. He could crush the little guide to dust or burn him into crisp without any real effort. The time stopped still. Smaug started laughing, greatly entertained by a thought of little annoyance at his feet daring to refuse him anything. 

Bilbo used Smaug’s evident distraction, closed his eyes tightly, cradling his acorn in front of his chest, and prayed for a miracle. _My Lady. Hear my plea. Let me help my dwarrow. Let me help them. Please, my Lady, lend me the strength to protect them._

The acorn started pulsing with the beat of his heart, causing Smaug to stop laughing. The pulsing echoed in the Arkenstone, Bilbo was clutching desperately in his other hand. The psionic energy swelled to dangerous levels inside the cavern and was quickly sucked into Bilbo’s unassuming little token. The acorn and the Arkenstone lit up bright blue, blinding everyone in the vicinity. 

Bilbo hissed. His token and the dwarf gem were burning his hands. He refused to give up and tightened his hold on them. The lives of his dwarrow depended upon his strength and will to continue. Somehow, he had no idea how the hobbit bent the power to his will and redirected the stream to hit the dragon. 

“Now. Kíli. Now.” The hobbit shouted all of his formidable abilities focused on keeping the dragon subdued. Smaug snarled and opened his mouth, prepared to send out the flame and burn out the hindrance. Bilbo pushed more power into the chains keeping the dragon immobile and snarled dangerously. “No, you won’t.” The chains made of psionic energy muzzled Smaug. Bilbo was quickly tiring out. “Come on, Kíli. Shoot.”

Kíli closed his eyes, grounding himself on the hobbit’s steady presence. He had to wait for the perfect moment. His brother and uncle surrounded Smaug with others flanking them, trying to get around him to help Bilbo. Young sentinel opened his eyes and breathed deeply. In. Out. In. Out. His bow was primed to fire. He narrowed his eyes, searching for the dragon’s weakness. And there it was. The blackened scales. All his senses were focused on the slight imperfection in Smaug’s armour. Preternatural calm enveloped him. And he shot.

The arrow hit the dragon precisely on the spot where he was weakest. Kíli quickly drew another arrow and aimed, waiting for the opportunity to fire again. It wasn’t necessary. The poison from the black arrow seeped directly into Smaug’s heart, causing him to seize up. The beast fell on the ground twitching, barely missing the hobbit. 

Bilbo exhaled sharply and fainted. The acorn stopped glowing abruptly, and the Arkenstone dulled forever, its power completely tapped out. The sense of otherworldliness vanished, leaving the disorientated group of dwarrow behind. 

“BILBO!!!” Thorin cried out, worried about his hobbit. Horrifyingly, he sensed their bond was weak, almost non-existent, and it pushed him on the edge of a feral episode.

Nori got to the fellow guide first. Putting his hands on the hobbit’s chest, he poured as much of healing energy as he dared to kick-start Bilbo’s own gifts. He was dangerously low on energy. From what the thief could remember of his own sparse training, the hobbit was trapped on the psionic plane for now.

Nori glanced up at the hobbit’s looming sentinel and said. “He’ll be alright, Thorin. He is just sleeping off the effects of channelling that much power in a short amount of time.” He looked down at Bilbo in admiration. “I don’t deny it was dangerous, but he saved us all. I don’t think I’ve ever met a guide strong enough to do what he did earlier. It’s a miracle.”

Thorin collapsed beside his guide, relieved he wasn’t going to lose him because of Bilbo’s rash actions. Their bond was strained to its limits but the dwarf was clinging to it with all of his might, encouraging it to return back to its healthy state. Cradling his guide’s head in his lap, Thorin sighed. “Oh, Bilbo, what shall I do with you?”


	19. Epilogue

Bilbo trailed his hand through the blue petals. He never expected to find himself on what he was almost sure was a psionic plane, at least judging by a blue-tinted clearing. Also, his gifts were somewhat muted and at the same time sharpened. The duality of his being was quite disconcerting. It had probably more to do with his rapidly changing abilities. He wasn’t prone to self-denial and resigned himself to his fate. He walked the path and there was no way of undoing it.

The hobbit sensed an unbelievably strong guide approaching him. He was fairly certain who it was, but refused to turn around to confirm his guess until the presence was skirting his personal bubble.

“Oh, my child.” the female Valar sighed, assessing the damage the overuse of his gifts caused to Bilbo. The poor soul was almost drained, and he inadvertently walked the path. It wasn’t something she wanted for her brightest child. But the decision was out of her hands. How she raged against Vairë and her incessant meddling that caused her Bilbo to suffer.

“Don’t bow, please. It’s not necessary.” Yavanna pleaded when the little hobbit made a move to follow the manners deeply ingrained in his mind.

“My lady.” Bilbo dropped his gaze in reverence. The Valier was blindingly beautiful and very powerful in her own right. A bonded alpha guide. It almost hurt to look at her unshielded being. But he was resilient and looked into her burning eyes.

“Out of all of my children, you are the strongest one, Bilbo. And that strength will be needed in the near future.” Yavanna revealed, summoning his token in her hands and blowing on it. A shudder went through Bilbo, as her blessing spread through his soul, wrapping gently around him and strengthening his link with Thorin momentarily. The Valier materialised the acorn back into his hands and smiled at Bilbo’s intense inspection.

“Why me? Does it have something to do with the ring I’ve found in the caves in the Misty Mountains?” Bilbo tried to pry some answers when he put the token away after he thoroughly scrutinized it.

“Vairë called me up shortly before your birth when she noticed some worrying patterns appearing on her tapestry. The rising darkness was going to swallow the entire world if we didn’t do anything.” Yavanna explained, tearing at the memories of long past times. “Originally, this path was meant for your mother. She was to venture outside the Shire, therefore she was born with an adventure in her heart and a free spirit. Unfortunately, her guide died in the Battle of Azanulbizar and her gifts fell dormant. We despaired for the future until she bonded with Bungo and bore your bright soul into the world. You became our hope.”

“Tall order for a simple hobbit like me,” Bilbo murmured, blushing at Yavanna’s words.

The Queen of Earth replied gently, motioning towards his token. “With enough time to grow, one little acorn can birth an entire forest. And so it is that even the smallest person can change the course of the future. So far, you’ve performed admirably.”

“But the ring…” Bilbo persisted.

“Is exactly what you think it is. Sauron’s desperate attempt at immortality. Vairë’s husband wasn’t pleased when he learnt about the lengths the fallen Maia went to avoid his judgement.” Yavanna revealed. “My blessing should stop its influence and strengthen your already formidable shields until it is properly disposed of in the fires of Mount Doom.”

The realm trembled and a gust of wind blew a couple of leaves around them. The Valier shuddered, as Vairë’s warning resonated through her entire being. “It’s time for you to return back, my child, back to your sentinel. He is going out of his mind with worry about you. You found your home in Erebor. Plant your acorn on the highest platform on that mountain, your dwarf will show you the exact place. It’ll be needed soon and you have to claim your rightful position. After all, you are the strongest guide east of the Misty Mountains.”

**The End**


End file.
